Old Dogs - Buukkin, unopposablethumbs (2024)

Chapter 1

Chapter Text

Izzy leans against the rail, taking a moment’s peace. They’ve a fair wind in the east, and they’re between shipping lanes, far enough to avoid the attention of the various navies that prowl these seas, close enough to swoop in quickly to capture any fat-bellied merchant vessel that catches their fancy. Above his head, the full sails ripple and snap, carrying the Revenge across the water at a light clip. The caps of gently swelling waves catch the sun, sparkling bright enough to leave afterimages as Izzy blinks.

The crew has improved in the past few weeks—not as fast or as steadily as they should, but still. Izzy can at least count on them to follow orders, even if he does have to repeat himself a few times. Even if about half the time he just ends up doing whatever needs doing himself under the guise of teaching them how. Still, they’re better.

And Ed’s happy. Izzy can still feel that, somehow, through the tattered remnants of the strange, diffuse bond they formed over thirty years sharing heats and ruts. It’s cloudy, always indistinct without a bite to confirm it. There have been times in the past few months when he thought he’d lost it—when he woke up after Jimenez cut off his leg…

He squeezes his hands into fists, leather creaking on his gloved hand. He doesn’t want to think about it. The spray of the surf is cool on his face as he breathes in and focuses on the warm glow he feels through the bond. It feels as though it’s pouring into a f*cking abyss, icy cold and untouchable, and Christ, Izzy wonders what the f*ck Ed feels from him. Sometimes he thinks he’s the only one who formed a bond at all—maybe there’s nothing for Ed to feel. Nothing but a bastard bond, anyway, or it would have been if Izzy’d ever carried a pup to term. As it is, it doesn’t even have that much legitimacy. There’s no mark on Izzy’s neck. He has no claim on Ed. Ed doesn’t f*cking owe him anything. The warmth pulses, golden, gently suffusing the nebulous bond between them, stronger than it’s been in weeks for some reason. Ed’s happy. Izzy should be happy about that.

He squints at the horizon, jaw set, arms folded tight. A few clouds cluster where the skymeets the sea—they look like… they look like clouds.

f*ck.

No matter how long he’s sailed with Edward, no matter how many times he’s stood beside him at the rail, peering out at ocean and firmament, he’s no f*cking closer to reading the clouds like Ed does. Oh, he can tell a building storm from the friendly, puffy clouds that promise a clear night, just like any sailor. But predicting it half a day or more in advance? His alpha’s skill had saved their lives more than once. Izzy feels a momentary swell of pride, the strange, pulsating warmth of the bond suddenly almost a real part of him…

A chilly gust sweeps across the deck, blowing crosswise from the warm prevailing winds.

“f*ck,” Izzy mutters. “Mister Boudhari, keep an eye on the lines—I’m going below!”

He doesn’t wait for Olu’s response. He’s willing to bet they won’t run the bloody ship aground in the time it takes for him to consult with Ed about the f*cking clouds.

He mutters to himself as he stomps down the companionway, hoof striking loud even through the thick, velvet carpet Stede had reinstalled after a particularly successful run of raids. If he’d take as much interest in f*cking captaining as he did in interior design then he might actually start learning a thing or two. Not that he or Edward had shown the faintest interest in emerging from their… their little love nest in f*cking weeks. Izzy’s breathing hard by the time he stands in front of the door to the captains’ cabin, face red, hands balled into fists. The bond feels off. Izzy sways slightly, dizzy. Is Edward f*cking drunk? Christ, it’s barely f*cking noon, he could at least try to keep it together til mid-afternoon.

He pulls his shoulders up around his ears and raises one fist to knock.

The door opens before his knuckles touch wood. Stede stares at him, wild-eyed, hair askew, golden robe wrapped around him haphazardly.

“Izzy, thank god!”

Izzy doesn’t hear him—he stares over Stede’s shoulder as the man babbles on. He doesn’t need to listen. He smelled it as soon as the door opened, should have f*cking known when he felt it through the bond, no matter how long it’s been. He ought to be pleased, for the chance to show that Stede f*cking Bonnet could never truly replace him, if nothing else. Stede places both hands on Izzy’s shoulders, still chattering as he pulls him into the room. Izzy stumbles slightly. The world feels distant, unreal almost. Ice curls at the base of his spine. Stede smiles at him, slightly manic as he pats Izzy’s shoulder.

“Right! Good man! I’ll– I’ll just leave you to it, then!”

Stede slips out into the hall, closing the door behind him. Izzy stares at the door, eyes tracing the swirling woodgrain aimlessly. Behind him, he hears the curtains that surround Bonnet’s opulent bed swish aside, silk whispering on silk. The scent—tobacco and cloves and heavy musk, sharp and saline.

“Iz? That you?” Ed’s voice sounds rough, but Izzy supposes that’s to be expected. It must have caught him off-guard.

It’s been almost two years since Ed’s last rut.

Izzy’s breath catches as he hears Ed shift in the bed.

“Iz?” he calls again.

Izzy clears his throat.

“Yeah, Ed,” he manages. He doesn’t know what the f*ck is wrong with him. He turns slowly. Ed’s sitting up, a dark silhouette, backlit by the window behind him. Izzy stands still. He tells himself he’s waiting for his captain’s orders. His alpha’s orders.

Nevermind that he wants to turn tail and f*cking run.

“You want to get started, or you want a drink first?”

Izzy almost laughs. Ed asks him that every time, has done from the very beginning. His answer’s always been the same. He can feel Ed’s eyes on him. The air feels too close, too hot. He opens his mouth, closes it again.

“Izzy?”

Izzy doesn’t need to hear the confusion in Ed’s voice—he feels it in the bond, so much sharper when he’s close to his alpha. He can smell it, uncertainty an acrid note in the need pouring off Ed’s skin. Izzy takes a deep breath and tries again.

“I… I wouldn’t mind a drink first this time, alpha.”

The shift in the air is nearly imperceptible—would be imperceptible to just about anyone else. Izzy feels it in his bones. He pushes down the whine that rises in his throat, turning toward Stede’s sideboard. A fine bottle of brandy sits on top, cool enough to sweat in the heat of the tightly closed cabin. Izzy feels sweat prickling on the back of his neck, too. He can hear Ed breathing.

Picking up a heavy crystal tumbler, he turns it in his hand, watching a beam of light from the window catch its facets, setting them alight. He opens the brandy, pours a large measure into a glass—he gulps down a mouthful, then tops up his glass. This is f*cking ridiculous. He can feel the tight coil of Ed’s restraint, tense and shaky through their bond. He swallows another mouthful of brandy, feeling Ed’s restraint fray. Ed growls when he moves to refill it. Izzy freezes, another little whine rising in him, a pathetic whimper slipping out before he can stop it. He grits his teeth, hating it, stupid little omega bitch, cowering from his alpha instead of–

“Just bring the f*cking bottle if you need it that bad.”

Ed speaks sharply. Impatient, as always—direct. Strong. Everything an alpha should be. Izzy tosses back the brandy in his glass, then grabs the bottle. The movement feels jagged, out of control. The bottle tilts back precariously, threatening to tumble to the floor before he can get hold of it. He grasps the neck awkwardly, just barely saving it from shattering on Bonnet’s f*cking polished hardwood floor. Ed huffs another growl and he moves on autopilot, holding the brandy tight to his chest in case his reflexes fail him again. The scent of Ed’s rut is overpowering. Heat pools between Izzy’s legs despite the ice still stiffening his spine. That’s something at least. He doesn’t fancy explaining to Edward why he’s f*cking dry, though Ed might not even notice in the state he’s in now. Izzy shivers. That’s one less thing to worry about.

Ed grabs the brandy from his hand as soon as he’s in arm’s reach, tossing it onto the bed behind him. He wears nothing but that f*cking robe of Stede’s he loves so much—it falls open as he pushes into Izzy’s space, his prick heavy and dark with blood between his legs.

“f*ck’s wrong with you, anyway?”

Ed’s hand curls around the back of his neck, yanking him closer, pushing his face into Izzy’s throat. He inhales deeply. He must feel the tremors running through Izzy’s body—Izzy can’t seem to get control of them. He feels off-balance, as though he’s watching everything that’s happening from a distance, as if the wet heat of Ed’s breath against his skin is a– a memory, or a dream. He stares at the bottle of brandy on the bed. The glass and a half slosh comfortingly in his belly, lending everything a pleasant sort of fuzziness. Ed pushes in closer still, then snarls in frustration. Izzy barely suppresses a shout as Ed’s hand tightens on the nape of his neck, then shoves him face first into the unmade bed. For a moment, he catches Stede’s soft, herbal beta smell, and then Ed’s over top of him, the dark, smokey scent of him overwhelming everything else.

Izzy’s breath comes in little gasps as Ed yanks at his trouser laces roughly—he’s pinned under Ed’s weight, knee aching as the pressure forces his wooden leg into an awkward angle. Ed pulls back just barely enough to shove Izzy’s trousers down around his knees. Izzy gasps, shivering despite the heat radiating from Ed’s skin. His own uneven gasps sound too loud, echoing in the f*cking bed nook as he tries to push himself up to present. His left leg won’t cooperate, still splayed at that aching angle even as he pulls the other—the whole one—under himself, pushing his ass up as best he can. Another shudder rolls down his spine. He feels wetness rolling down the insides of his thighs, c*nt exposed, legs splayed, and he knows it’s not good enough, Hornigold taught him better... Ed chuckles, the sound dark, almost indulgent, and Izzy tries not to flinch when a hand caresses his flank, almost tenderly.

“There he is…” Ed says quietly.

And then his co*ck slams home. Izzy shouts, half-fear, half-pain as Ed digs his fingers into Izzy’s hips, dragging him back onto his prick, knot already forming at the base, shoving deeper into Izzy’s aching c*nt. Ed hunches over him, hips snapping brutally as Izzy bites back a sob. His half-formed knot pops into Izzy’s c*nt, stretching him wider still. Izzy shoves a fist between his teeth as Ed yanks it out again, growling as he pounds into Izzy, forcing the knot in and out even as it continues to swell. Another sob forces its way out of Izzy’s chest and he bites down on his fist, tasting iron and salt. A tear rolls down the bridge of his nose, then another, the sheet growing wet under his cheek.

Ed snaps his hips again, swollen knot making Izzy’s c*nt burn as he forces it in. It catches tight against the entrance of Izzy’s c*nt and Ed snarls, trying to yank it free. Izzy moans in terror, squeezing his eyes shut, certain for a moment that Ed will rip him in half this time. Ed just growls in frustration. He grinds into Izzy’s c*nt, short, sharp thrusts that tug at his knot, sending a searing jolt of pain through Izzy every time. Izzy whimpers softly. Ed grabs him by the back of the neck again, pressing him down until he can hardly breathe. The first slap catches him off guard, though it shouldn’t—he f*cking knows what Ed’s like in rut. He tenses, struggling a little in Ed’s grip as Ed spanks him harshly and f*ck, that was stupid. He knows better than to fight his f*cking alpha.

Ed’s hand tightens on the back of his neck, pinning him properly and Izzy really can’t breathe now. Serves him right, too. Swift, stinging blows rain down on the aching muscles of his ass, the pain in his c*nt constant, black spots swimming behind his eyes as his lungs start to burn. He feels like he’s floating, darkness moving up to meet him—he’s only distantly aware as Ed groans, long and low, fingers digging into the bruised flesh of Izzy’s ass as he thrusts once, twice more, and then grinds in, flooding Izzy’s c*nt with hot spend.

He releases his hold on Izzy’s neck absentmindedly, reaching down to spread Izzy open with his thumbs, staring down at the place where they’re knotted together. Izzy gasps, sucking in a lungful of air, choking as he fights his way back to full consciousness. White-hot pain shoots up his leg from his knee, twisted prosthetic digging into raw nerves. His c*nt burns, ass aching, eyes hot and dry now that his tears have stopped, throat raw. He inhales again, setting off another coughing fit. Above him, Ed snorts, sounding almost affectionate.

“Christ, Iz,” he says, “you’re always such a f*cking drama queen.”

*

It takes the better part of fifteen minutes for Ed’s knot to go down. Behind Izzy, Ed sighs, shifting impatiently. Izzy grunts quietly as the movement tugs at the knot in his aching c*nt. Ed lies awkwardly behind him—in this position, it should be almost impossible to avoid spooning, but Ed manages it. He keeps his arms crossed over his chest, torso twisted a little so he can stare up at the ceiling instead of at the back of Izzy’s head. His body feels cooler now, and god Izzy envies him that. An alpha’s rut, though no less urgent than an omega’s heat, is often enough one and done—not the humiliating, days-long nightmare of a heat. The fact that Izzy hasn’t had one in years is a small mercy, at least. Some part of him used to miss it, to miss Ed’s touch…

Ed shifts again, knot tugging, forcing a small whimper from Izzy. God. f*cking pathetic. Stupid omega bitch, whining for mercy. His stomach roils, brandy turning acrid in his belly. He swallows hard, forcing the nausea down. He shivers, suddenly freezing in a room that had been sweltering just moments earlier. Ed’s more restless by the minute, fidgeting and sighing, tugging at the knot more and more purposefully. Izzy squeezes his eyes shut, trying to breathe through it, ignoring the tight fist of panic closing in his chest. He can’t stop the high whines that slip out of him, breathing too fast, head spinning. The knot’s smaller now, but not small enough, each tug sending pain shooting through his c*nt. Ed puts a hand on his hip, holding him in place as he tries to pull it out.

“Ed!” he gasps. “Ed, please, wait!”

Ed’s hand tightens on his hip and he tugs again. The feel of the knot shifting in him nearly makes him puke.

“Would you just stop f*cking whining?” Ed has both hands on Izzy’s hips, wriggling and tugging as the knot starts to give. Izzy can feel the bulk of it still in his c*nt. It’s too soon, they’re stuck together, but Ed is pulling almost continuously now and for just one second, Izzy lets himself think he could be wrong, maybe if he just relaxes it won’t–

Ed pulls one last time, shoving Izzy’s hips forward, and the knot pops free—Izzy yelps as he feels something tear. Ed groans, rolling away from Izzy to sit up, stretching his arms above his head, shoulders cracking.

“Thank f*ck, that position was f*cking my neck.”

Ed’s up and halfway across the cabin a moment later. He picks up an apple from Stede’s desk, biting into it as he leans back, ankles crossed. He looks back towards the bed nook, where Izzy’s only just pushed himself up to sit. Ed frowns, taking another bite of the apple, chewing loudly. Izzy’s eyes land on the brandy still lying among the bedsheets. He stands slowly, tugging his trousers back up carefully. The tear in his c*nt isn’t too bad—just superficial, he thinks. He can just take care of it himself. The lace on the back of his trousers is torn, one of the eyelets ripped clean through. He can fix that too. He just has to keep them up until he gets to his quarters.

“You on watch tonight?” Ed asks. Izzy grabs the bottle of brandy in one hand, holding his waistband with the other. He can feel blood and spend rolling down his thigh. His c*nt burns and aches all at once.

“Yes, sir,” he says. Ed’s not even looking at him, already turning towards the door, a clear dismissal. Ed sounds absent, only vaguely aware of Izzy’s presence now that his rut has passed.

“Well, get some rest after that, yeah?” he says. “And send Stede back in.”

Izzy doesn’t answer, limping to the door. Cold shocks of pain shoot up through his knee to his hip every time he puts his weight on the wooden hoof. He focuses on one step at a time, painstaking. It takes him a moment to figure out how to open the door without dropping either the brandy or his trousers, but he manages it. Stede pokes his head into the companionway as Izzy closes the door behind him.

“Finished then?” he asks, all brittle cheer. Izzy bares his teeth and Stede has the good grace to blanch a bit, at least.

“Yes, captain,” Izzy snarls, in much the same tone he might use to tell the man to shove a cannon up his ass and light the f*cking wick. Stede frowns, looking Izzy up and down. He opens his mouth and, god, if Stede f*cking Bonnet asks if he’s alright Izzy thinks he’ll f*cking scream until his lungs burn. Stede’s eyes light on the brandy in Izzy’s hand and his expression shifts from concern to prim irritation.

“Well, help yourself, I suppose,” he snips. Izzy gives him a nasty smile.

“Thanks,” he says, “I will.”

They stare at each other for a moment and then Izzy nods towards the cabin door.

“Ed wants you,” he says, voice cracking just slightly. Stede’s face lights up.

“Oh! Good.” Stede steps past Izzy without a backwards glance. Ed’s voice rings out as Stede steps inside.

“Stede! Mate, I just had a brilliant idea–”

The door swings shut. Izzy shuts his eyes for just a moment, feeling the ship rocking beneath him in the dark, quiet hall. He places a hand on the wall, using it to support himself as he makes his slow, laborious way to his cabin.

He just needs to rest for a moment, and then he’ll head back on deck. Could probably even find someone to cover the watch if he needs to. Not that he needs to. Never needed to before. He’s not f*cking weak. He doesn’t need a f*cking night off every time he gets f*cked.

His quarters are quiet and dark. Izzy stumbles to the bed, sitting heavily on the thin pallet he sleeps on—a light blanket, worn and threadbare but clean, is folded neatly at the bottom of the bed. His hands shake as he pulls it over his shoulders. He only means to sit for a moment, and then he’ll pour a bit of water into the basin and get cleaned up. The small trunk he keeps tucked under the bed holds a change of trousers, so he can repair the ones he’s wearing after his watch. His shoulders sag. He just needs a moment more. The sound of his head hitting the pallet is a quiet thunk, just barely cushioned from the hard wood below. He lies on his side, eyes open. He just needs to lie still for a moment. Izzy’s vision narrows, dimly lit room swimming in front of him, head spinning, c*nt throbbing. He closes his eyes, just for an instant.

*

“He’s not f*cking dead–” “–I’m telling you, he is–” “–Roach, hurry the f*ck up, is he dead or–” “–in my professional opinion–” “–f*ck your professional opinion, just wake him up!”

A hand on his shoulder shakes Izzy from sleep—he grunts, recoiling, one arm raised defensively. His head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, thoughts moving slowly, out of order. Archie raises her hands apologetically, backing away.

“Sorry!” she says cheerfully. “Thought you were dead. I just lost a bet!”

She crosses her arms, hissing “What?” as Jim elbows her in the ribs.

“What?” Izzy echoes, pushing himself halfway to sitting on his cot. His arms shake, muscles aching. He can feel the mess between his legs still, half-dried and sticky, and he shudders, nausea pushing up his throat again.

“Right!” Roach claps his hands and Jim and Archie jump. “Everybody out!”

Izzy catches a glimpse of the hall as they slip through his half-open door. The golden light of early morning pours down the companionway. Izzy’s heart starts to pound.

“f*ck,” he says, trying to shove himself up out of bed. Roach puts a gentle hand in the centre of Izzy’s chest, stopping him effortlessly. Izzy glares at him, channelling his panic into fury. “Un-f*cking-hand me!”

Roach just shakes his head gently, utterly unbothered.

“This is f*cking insubordination, Mr. Roach,” Izzy growls, “I’m your superior officer!”

Roach smirks at him.

“When I am the cook, you are my superior officer,” he says calmly, “but right now, I am the doctor. And as doctor, I am relieving you of duty.”

He pushes Izzy back down onto the bed—not that Izzy’s in a position to put up much resistance. Roach pats his shoulder, genuinely concerned as he peers down at Izzy. Izzy cringes internally. God, does he really look that f*cking weak…

“Seriously, man,” Roach says. “You look like sh*t. What the f*ck happened, anyway?”

For just an instant, Izzy wants to tell him. At the very least, the first f*cking mate shouldn’t leave himself at risk of f*cking infection.

But the first mate shouldn’t spread the captain’s business to the f*cking crew either. Ed might not be his mate, not properly, but he still swore an oath. Above all else.

“f*ck off,” he mutters, breathless. Roach smiles, eyes still worried, sad even.

“Alright, First Mate Hands,” he says, shaking his head, “have it your way. I’ll be back later. Rest. Or I’ll send Jim and Archie to watch you.”

Roach raises his eyebrows meaningfully and Izzy can’t help but huff a quiet laugh.

“Anything but that,” he mutters, curling on his side again. Roach smiles again, a bit more genuine this time, and then he’s gone, closing the door behind him. Izzy stares into the darkness again. He shivers, a chill running through him despite the blanket. He doesn’t know what the f*ck is wrong with him. Everything feels off—too hot, too cold, too quiet, too loud. The gentle rocking of the ship makes bile rise in his throat again. His scalp tingles, feverish, electric. It feels familiar. He squeezes his eyes shut. The tingling spreads down his spine like an itch, melting out into his limbs. He focuses on breathing. He just needs to breathe. This is f*cking stupid, it’s been years. He ignores the voice in the back of his head that reminds him that it’d been years since Ed’s last rut, too.

“f*ck off,” he mutters out loud, teeth chattering. “That’s different.”

Ed’s an alpha, after all, still strong, in his prime. It makes sense that his rut would come back for a new mate, someone younger, more exciting than a used up old omega—it was just bad luck Stede was a beta, or they’d probably be expecting pups by now. Izzy never managed to give him any. He whimpers at the thought, c*nt clenching painfully, still swollen and aching, now tingling like the rest of him, too hot too cold and need, need, need…

Izzy jams a fist into his mouth, forcing down the urge to wail, to call for help, to call for his alpha, to beg for… his heart pounds in his ears. The feeling of Ed tugging at the knot inside him, the knot tearing free–

Izzy just barely pulls his hand free in time to lean over the side of his cot and vomit, nothing but acid in his stomach. He stares down at the frothy puddle of yellow-tinged liquid. The feeling sparks across his skin again, hot and needy.

His heat’s begun.

*

“Hey, que pasó? What the f*ck?” Jim pushes away from the wall, following Roach back towards the kitchen, Archie trailing after. They catch his arm, spinning him back towards them. “What happened to him, huh?”

Roach shakes his head, uncharacteristically serious.

“He wouldn’t say,” he says, looking back towards Izzy’s cabin. “And that’s not our only problem. I think he’s about to go into heat.”

Jim hisses through their teeth.

“f*ck,” they mutter. “I thought he smelled off. I should have known.”

Archie looks between the two of them like a dog watching a frisbee.

“But guys, that’s easy—we just get his alpha, right? Blackbeard?” Archie smiles, then frowns when Roach and Jim just stare at her balefully. Taking another breath, she clarifies. “Blackbeard! You know! Big guy, wears leather, tried to kill us all. Izzy’s alpha!”

Jim sighs as Roach rolls his eyes.

“We know who Blackbeard is, amor,” they say. Archie smiles again, relieved. Jim and Roach exchange a glance, then slip into the kitchen. Archie looks up and down the hall as surreptitiously as she can.

“So we’re not gonna go get Blackbeard?” she stage whispers as she follows them.

*

Izzy stares up towards the ceiling. The heat has started to make things fuzzy, edges soft. His little co*ck is hard, already leaking. He whimpers, shoving a hand down the front of his trousers, yelping as his fingers catch the split at the mouth of his c*nt. It hurts. Everything f*cking hurts—the rough blanket against his skin, the broken eyelet on the back of his leathers cutting into him, the hard pallet beneath him, the prosthetic digging into the throbbing flesh below his knee, his empty c*nt, he needs, needs, needs…

He needs a nest. He needs his alpha. He needs Ed, his Eddie, Ed, Ed, Ed—

Ed who never even has the patience to wait for his knot to go down after his rut. Ed, who always f*cking hated Izzy’s heats, f*cking interminable, humiliating things they were. Ed who’s locked in the captains’ cabin with his beta lover. Izzy laughs, the sound sharp and hopeless. As if Ed would come anywhere near him without his own rut forcing his hand.

Izzy squirms out of his trousers, too hot too tight, sticky, not clean, and god he needs to be clean, he needs…

He sobs another painful laugh as he pushes himself up to sit.

He can’t stay here.

Not safe. Not clean.

He needs a nest.

Izzy grabs the rough blanket from his cot, grimacing at the feel of it. It’s clean at least. He digs through the meagre trunk stowed underneath, pulling out a spare shirt, well-worn and soft, and his cotton trousers. At the very bottom of his trunk there’s a fur rug—not too big, though still impractical for a f*cking pirate ship. It’s a miracle it hasn’t f*cking rotted by now. Izzy bought it at a market years ago, a few days before the worst heat of his life. Stupid. He never even used it. It was embarrassing enough nesting in the f*cking bedsheets with Ed watching him, let alone assembling one of the absurd confections other omegas spent their heats languishing in. Izzy’s never needed any of that stupid, soft nonsense and god those nests always look so f*cking soft and he f*cking NEEDS…

He whimpers as he pulls his pathetic little pile of nesting materials into his arms. He hesitates for a moment and then grabs the brandy bottle, too. He steps into the hall furtively. He has to be quick.

Izzy darts past the captains’ cabin, down the stairs leading to the belly of the ship, the cargo hold. Omegas have survived heats alone before. In the ideal conditions, they could come through it none the worse for wear, or near enough to it. Izzy doesn’t need ideal conditions. He never has. And, well, he’ll have a nest. Practically f*cking indulgent by his standards. He slips into the cargo hold. Damp, cool air makes him shiver, little tremors rolling through his body arrhythmically. Well, he thinks, that’s what the blankets are for. He tucks himself into a tight, dark corner, using a few boxes to wall him off from the rest of the hold. He breathes shallowly, pulling and tugging at his few bits of fabric and fur, trying to turn them into a proper nest, skin on fire, freezing, and he needs needs needs…

He sucks in a breath, digging his fingers into his arms as he pushes his back into the hard curve of the ship’s wall.

He needs nothing.

*

“Edward?” Stede looks up at Ed inquisitively, holding the teapot he’d been just about to top up Ed’s morning cup. “Is everything alright?”

Ed stands stock still for a moment. He opens his mouth, tasting the air. He frowns, sucking in short, sharp breaths, searching for something.

“Ed?” Stede prompts. Ed shakes his head, eyes still distant.

“I- it’s nothing,” he says finally. “I just… for a second I thought…”

He stares at the door, shoulders tense. His head tilts to one side, then the other. Stede sets the teapot down and stands, dabbing the corners of his mouth delicately with his napkin. Ed whines quietly. He looks perfectly helpless as he stares back at Stede with wide, brown eyes. Stede plants a kiss on his temple.

“Right!” he says, enthusiastic as always. “Let’s investigate, shall we?”

*

“f*ck,” Jim says. They stand just inside Izzy’s room, flanked by Archie and Roach. They stare, eyes wide, at Izzy’s empty cot. Archie crouches down awkwardly, peering under Izzy’s cot and his rickety desk.

“Yeah, bad news, guys, he’s not in here,” they say helpfully.

“Hijo de puta,” Jim growls, “why can’t anything with him just be f*cking easy? Where the f*ck would he go?”

Roach crosses one arm over his chest, stroking his chin with his other hand. The three of them step into the room, the scent of heat almost overwhelming in the tight space.

“He can’t have gone far,” Roach says, considering. “I’m amazed he even managed to get out of bed.”

“Well, we’ve got to f*cking find him!” Jim says, voice tight with irritation and worry. “And fast, before—“

“Before what?”

Jim, Archie and Roach freeze, then turn in slow unison to face the door. Archie wraps a hand around Jim’s bicep, restraining, just in time if the soft growl rising in their throat is anything to go by.

Ed stands silhouetted in the doorway, hands wrapped around the frame, hair falling in front of his face. Stede peers around him, more confused than worried.

“You’ve got to find Izzy before what?” Ed repeats, voice soft as you please. Jim’s growl rumbles out a touch louder as they move to stand between him and the others. Ed’s mouth opens as he inhales, wooden doorframe creaking under his hands as he fills his nose with the scent of Izzy’s heat. He breathes harshly as he steps forward.

“Where the f*ck is my f*cking omega?”

Chapter 2

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Izzy huddles in his spartan little nest. He shivers constantly, freezing and sweltering by turns. Sweat rolls down his neck, biting cold, sharp as a handful of snow down the back of your shirt and, god, he remembers snow, the crunch underfoot, streaked through with black from the miner’s boots, his mother’s fingers white with cold… Izzy groans as his skin turns hot again, fire in him raging so fast and so fierce that he thinks he might burn through the side of the ship and plunge into the water below. He whimpers softly, writhing as he clutches at the rough woollen blanket he brought with him, too rough, too small, not safe, not safe… he can hear his captain calling for him, and he curls up tight, trying to hide, he’s not supposed to nest, not allowed, stupid little omega whor*, he feels the bite of the whip on his back, hears Hornigold’s voice again.

“Now, now, little bird, you know what happens when you break the rules…”

He whines, wrapping his arms around himself as ice seeps into his aching bones again.

*

“Hey!” Jim shouts as Ed turns and rushes headlong down the hall, following the trail of Izzy’s heat. Stede throws his hands up, blocking their path with a truly extraordinary lack of self-preservation instinct. Jim snarls at him and he blinks, shocked.

“Move, pendejo, before I f*cking move you,” they say, knife materializing in their hand from who-knows-where.

“Oh, come now, I’m sure Ed just wants what’s best for Izzy—surely it’s not a good idea to come between an alpha and his omega!”

Stede speaks with perfect earnestness. Jim rolls their eyes, managing to pack an impressive amount of disgust into their growl. They shove Stede to the side and run after Ed.

“Hey!” Stede squeaks as Archie and Roach push past as well. “I’m the captain!”

Straightening his jacket, he smooths a hand over his hair and follows them towards the cargo hold.

*

“Izzy!” Ed shouts as he storms into the belly of the ship. The scent is strong here, strong enough to make his head spin and his co*ck twitch. Izzy doesn’t answer. Dramatic little f*cker. Always has to make things so much f*cking harder than they have to be. No matter how buttoned up he seems, how in control he pretends to be, deep down he’s still just a f*cking omega.

Hornigold hadn’t done much good in his life, but at least he taught Ed how to handle an omega. When Ed went into rut for the first time, just a month after joining Hornigold’s crew, Hornigold took him under his wing, in more ways than one. Ed’s spent the last thirty years separating the good lessons from the bad. But when it comes to being an alpha, Hornigold’s rules are burned into him, incontrovertible truths. If you give a bitch an inch, it’ll take a mile. He’s given Izzy too much leeway lately. It’s time to remind him who the f*cking alpha is.

Ed pushes into the cargo hold, shoving the door shut just as he hears feet on the stairs, following him into the belly of the ship. He locks the door, then shoves a couple of heavy crates in front of it for good measure. He’ll deal with his mutinous f*cking crew later, after he’s finished putting his bitch back in his place.

The scent of heat hangs thick and sweet in the musty air of the cargo hold. Ed feels drunk with it, reeling as he tries to pinpoint its source. His skin feels tight, prick uncomfortably hard in his leathers as he responds to the scent of his mate, Izzy’s sudden heat threatening to push him into another rut. f*cking serve him right if it did, too, Ed thinks. Insubordinate little f*cker. Always questioning his orders and second-guessing his f*cking plans. Glaring at Stede on deck, openly challenging him, as if a challenge to his alpha’s mate isn’t a challenge to his alpha, too. Shouting orders and whinging about supply runs. f*cking nagging. And now hiding from his f*cking alpha.

A growl rises in Ed’s throat. From a distant corner of the room, a tiny sound. Ed’s hackles rise, breath quick and shallow as his focus narrows. His eyes adjust to the dim light—he sees a few little crates stacked in the corner, forming a makeshift screen. His lips pull back, half smile, half snarl as he stalks forward. Behind him, someone pounds on the door, shouting. He pays it no mind.

*

“Puta madre!” Jim shouts, kicking the door. It still doesn’t move. Jim turns back to Archie and Roach. “Go get Wee John—we’re gonna need some muscle here.”

None of them notice as Stede quietly slips away.

*

Stede glances behind himself, ostentatiously furtive. No one’s following him, of course—they’re focused on the door. Well, the door they know about at least. Stede smiles smugly. He’d always known the secret passages were a good idea, but he’d never imagined how essential they’d turn out to be. Take this particular crisis, for example! All that’s really needed is a bit of time for cooler heads to prevail. He can slip into the cargo hold before the crew do anything rash. Once he’s got Ed—and Izzy, if necessary—safely tucked away in the captains’ cabin, he’ll be able to prove once and for all that Ed doesn’t pose any threat to their irascible first mate. He hums happily to himself as he presses a panel in the wall and steps into the passage. It’s been a while since he’s had a chance to do some really first-rate captaining, and he feels certain he’s going to outdo himself today.

*

Izzy curls himself tighter. He took his leg off after building his nest—he’s naked now, clothing shed as fever raged through his body, tucked into his pathetic excuse for a nest.

He can smell alpha nearby, his alpha, his Ed, whole body aching with need as he grinds his teeth to keep from calling out. He can’t remember why. There’s nothing but instinct now, the push-pull between the aching hollowness of his c*nt and the voice in the back of his mind that whispers not safe, not safe, not safe. A quiet growl from somewhere in the room. Izzy presses a hand over his mouth, whimpering softly. He doesn’t know where he is, but it hurts, why does everything hurt?

A sudden crash makes him yelp, cringing back against the wall as first one crate, then another and another, are ripped from the barrier he built in front of his nest and flung across the hold. He tries to push himself deeper into the nest, not even enough fabric there to cover his whole body properly. He whimpers, clutching his fur, the softest thing he owns, to his chest. The last crate is ripped away, thrown to smash against the floor a few feet away.

His alpha stands over him, breathing hard, smelling of sweat and rut and rage most of all. Izzy’s mouth works silently—before he can find his voice, a hand closes around his throat.

“f*ck d’you think you’re doing, you little sh*t?”

*

Izzy stares up at him, eyes glazed—he barely even looks like he recognizes his alpha. This close, there’s an off note beneath the sweetness of heat, a touch of rot beneath the familiar thick, indolic scent. The anger simmering under Ed’s skin flares white hot.

“You little sh*t…”

He doesn’t even remember wrapping his hand around Izzy’s throat, but it feels right. He squeezes, watching Izzy’s eyes bulge, mouth open as he fights for air. His co*ck throbs, so hard he can feel his heartbeat in it.

“f*ck are you playing at, huh?” Ed scents the air again, catching the sharp note of panic cutting the sickly sweet heat smell. He lets go of Izzy’s throat, ignoring his gasping and coughing—putting on a f*cking show, just like Hornigold always said. Manipulative. Cunning.

There’s a pile of trash tucked into the corner with Izzy—he clutches an old fur Ed’s never seen before, still trying to hide himself, and who the f*ck does he think he is? Ed grabs a corner of it, ripping it out of Izzy’s arms and throwing it aside. Izzy wails brokenly, reaching out for it like Ed’s stolen a f*cking child from him. Ed snarls, grabbing him by the hair, dragging him out from the corner. Izzy moves awkwardly on three limbs, slipping and falling hard before Ed’s grip on his hair forces him to push himself up again, scrambling across the rough wood floor. He falls forward, sprawling as Ed lets go with a little shove. Ed straddles his legs, hands working at his fall front, freeing his throbbing co*ck, knot already starting to swell at the base.

Izzy whines, hands scrabbling as he tries to pull himself away again. Ed growls, grabbing him by the shoulder, flipping him to his back with enough force to knock the wind from him. Izzy gasps, still shoving at Ed’s hands, the acrid scent of fear nearly enough to cut through the miasma of heat. Ed grabs him by the wrists, pinning them easily with one hand, blood pounding in his veins as he feels the delicate bones grinding together, pressing them into the floor as Izzy whines, tears pouring down his cheeks.

“This is what you want, huh?” Ed mutters, more to himself than to Izzy. “Need a reminder of who your f*cking alpha is…”

Izzy whimpers, then yelps as Ed’s fingers find his c*nt, twisting away, face contorted in pain.

“No, no, no, alpha, please, it hurts,” he sobs. Ed growls, digging his fingers into the meat of Izzy’s inner thigh, forcing his thighs wide.

“Oh, it hurts, eh?” Ed says, a parody of sympathy. “Poor little c*nt all worn out?”

Izzy whines again, skin hot under Ed’s fingers, still struggling to get free. Ed squeezes his wrists tighter, rubbing his co*ck over Izzy’s slick-coated c*nt, rocking his hips against Izzy’s prick, small and soft against his stomach.

“Guess I’ll just have to knot your ass, then.”

He pushes Izzy’s leg up over his shoulder. Izzy sobs, head shaking desperately, and then Ed takes hold of his own co*ck and presses it to Izzy’s hole.

“Alpha, please,” he gasps, and then he screams as Ed presses forward, forcing his co*ck into Izzy’s ass with sharp, cruel thrusts.

“Stupid f*cking bitch,” Ed gasps, snarling as he f*cks into Izzy. “f*cking… ruining everything…”

Izzy just whimpers, head turned so he can press his face into his own arm, eyes squeezed shut. He bites back another scream as Ed’s knot bullies its way inside before Ed yanks it free. Ed can feel his climax building, knot swelling, a little harder to pull out every time and, f*ck, the last thing he wants is to be stuck to this f*cking omega right now. He thrusts in again and god, he’s so f*cking close, he only just manages to pull out one last time—the sound Izzy makes as the knot pulls free is barely human. Ed grabs his knot in his hand, squeezing hard, groaning as he comes across Izzy’s ass, his c*nt, his soft little co*ck.

He lets go of Izzy’s wrists, shaking out a cramp in his hand, and swipes his fingers idly through his own spend. Izzy covers his face with his hands, his sobs jagged, broken. The sound makes Ed’s stomach twist uncomfortably. His jaw tightens as he pushes the feeling away, clinging to anger, clean and sharp.

“Would you f*cking stop that?” He says it quietly, barely more than a whisper. Izzy presses his hands over his mouth, sobs forcing their way out still, the sound wet, out of control.

“Just, f*cking… f*cking shut up,” Ed says, louder now. Izzy’s whole body shakes with the force of his sobs, hands doing nothing to muffle the awful sound. “Shut up. Shut the f*ck up!”

Ed grabs Izzy’s hands, yanking them away from his mouth, and slaps him hard, rings catching his cheekbone. Blood mixes with the tears rolling down his face—he sobs almost silently now. Quiet enough, anyway, for Ed to hear a gasp from the other side of the room.

His head swivels, heart plummeting into his belly, though he couldn’t quite say why. Stede stares at him, face ghastly pale, lit by the lantern he must have brought through some passage or other. His mouth opens, shuts, opens again. For a moment, Izzy’s quiet weeping is the only sound. Ed’s anger falls away, leaving a strange pit in his stomach. Stede swallows, throat working.

“Ed?” he says, too softly. “What have you done?”

*

“Hurry the f*ck up, come on!” Jim shouts as Wee John lumbers down the hall, Frenchie and Olu just behind him.

“What’s happening?” Olu asks, face creased with concern as he catches the scent of distressed omega pouring from the cargo hold. Jim grimaces, pulling him in for a quick kiss.

“Bad sh*t, amor. Just… stay out here, okay?”

John rolls his shoulders and cracks his neck. Frenchie pats his shoulder encouragingly even as he shifts from foot to foot, glancing nervously at the heavy wood and iron door between them and whatever nightmare Blackbeard has in store for them this time.

“You’ve got this, babes, it’s all you,” he says, rubbing John’s arms briskly. John takes a deep breath, bracing himself, and then, with sudden, explosive force, throws a shoulder against the door. It shudders, wood starting to buckle, and John braces himself again.

*

“f*ck!” Stede yelps as the door shudders and cracks. He sucks in a breath, still trying to wrap his mind around the scene in front of him. Ed stares up at him with those liquid brown eyes, mouth tight with misery. His co*ck, limp and streaked with blood, hangs from the fall front of his trousers, already twitching again in response to the scent of Izzy’s heat, overwhelming in the small space. And Izzy… Izzy lies on his side on the rough wood floor, hands pressed over his face, the scent of his distress almost as strong as his heat. He’s drawn his thighs up to his chest, and Stede can see the blood-stained slick dripping down from...

“Stede,” Ed says, voice hoarse, almost pleading. Before he can say more, another blow to the door shatters the silence, the sound of splintering wood shocking Stede out of paralysis.

“Edward, for god’s sake, get away from him,” he finds himself saying. He grabs Ed by the elbow, pulling him up and away from Izzy. Ed snarls instinctively at being pulled away from his omega and Stede fixes him with a level gaze, and an unimpressed “Really?”

Ed blinks, startled and hopefully chastened. Stede kneels down next to Izzy, still curled on the floor, shaking. Stede’s not even sure the man’s fully lucid—from the looks of him, that’s probably a mercy. Maybe he can still get them back to the captains’ quarters, at the very least get them both cleaned up and start figuring out what the hell is going on…

The door shatters under the force of Wee John’s next blow, the heavy crates Ed used to reinforce it hitting the floor with an audible crunch. Jim is first over the threshold. They make a beeline for Ed, knife drawn, teeth bared, snarling like a wild animal as they go for his throat. Ed snarls back, eyes widening as their momentum doesn’t change. They close the last few feet with a leap, tackling Ed to the ground—despite the difference in size between the two alphas, it’s instantly apparent that Ed’s out of his depth.

“Wait, stop!” Stede’s voice is high, panicked, pathetic even in his own ears—no wonder then, that Jim doesn’t even seem to hear him. They grasp Ed’s hair tightly, their legs pinning his shoulders to the ground as he writhes and growls. The growl turns abruptly to a whine as Jim yanks his head back, the tip of their knife biting into the side of his throat.

“Jim, wait!”

Olu’s voice, firm and confident, breaks through the fog of Jim’s blood rage. They freeze, a drop of blood rolling slowly down Ed’s neck. Ed whimpers quietly beneath them, unmoving, eyes wide and wet. Jim looks back at their omega, teeth clenched tight as they fight the instinct to pull the knife across the tender flesh of Ed’s throat and let the life drain out of him, or else to just rip the bastard’s throat out with their teeth. Olu steps forward hands outstretched, calming. Jim’s breathing slows as they watch him, tension leaving their shoulders.

“That smell,” Olu says, nose scrunched, uncomfortable. “His heat’s turned—he’ll never survive you killing his mate.”

Jim’s eyes widen, and they open their mouth, breathing in deep, taking in the sickly sweet scent lingering under the rich jasmine scent of Izzy’s heat and the sharp, fermented warning of his fear. Their mouth twists in disgust as they turn back to Ed. He breathes shallowly, utterly still other than the rapid blinking of his pretty brown eyes as he fights back tears. They lean down over him, knife still biting into his flesh.

“You got lucky today, pendejo,” they say, voice almost too quiet to be heard over the creaking of the ship and the softly sussurating waves. “Next time, don’t f*cking count on it.”

They pull their knife away from his throat, wiping it casually on the thin cotton fabric of his shirt before spinning it through their fingers and secreting it away. Ed sucks in a breath, coughing as his throat opens again. Tears roll down his face as Jim slowly stands, putting their body between him and Izzy. Ed whimpers again. He looks more baffled than anything. Stede breathes in sharply. He hadn’t even realised he was holding his breath. Ed’s alive. He’s alright, a few tears and a nasty looking puncture wound just to the left of his jugular aside. But…

“Wait! What do you mean his heat’s turned?” he asks, looking between Jim and Olu, baffled. Olu sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose the way he always does when Stede’s asked something particularly stupid.

“It means he’s dying, Stede,” he says, shaking his head as he looks at Izzy, whose shivers are very nearly convulsions now, breath ragged and irregular. Jim crosses their arms, glaring at Ed as he slowly pushes himself to sit, poking gingerly at the wound in his neck.

“Dying?” Stede gasps, aghast. He looks down at his first mate, naked and shuddering, quiet whimpers working their way out around his strained breathing.

“Yup,” Jim says, somehow managing to pack several different death threats into the word as they continue to stare at Ed, unblinking. “And this hijo de puta’s knot is the only thing that can save him.”

*

Izzy drifts, unconsciousness a balm despite the strange, shifting images it brings, shadowed memories and dark imaginings. Hornigold’s hand, meaty and hot, on the back of his neck, whispering poison, cold green eyes promising pain… Ed with Hornigold’s blood on his teeth, Ed with his hair dancing in the wind… Ed with a sneer on his face, his co*ck pushing in and in and in and god it might as well be a knife, but it’s his captain, his alpha, his Ed, Eddie, Eddie please, stop, don’t, Ed, I love—

“Shhh…”

The voice is unfamiliar and Izzy cringes, confused, catching glimpses of the ceiling overhead, the red rug of the companionway, someone’s shoulder, his face pressed into it, muscle and bone warm against his cheek. Blood on the crisp cotton of their shirt, and someone’s hurt, his crew, he doesn’t know, doesn’t remember.

“Hush, abuelito—we’re all fine. Rest now, sí?”

Izzy whimpers softly. He trusts that voice. He catches another glimpse of the rug, or the blood maybe, an unfocused sea of red, and then his eyes drift shut, and he slips back down into dreams.

*

Stede hurries along behind Ed. Ed walks stiffly, head held high despite the dark looks the crew shoots him, the mutters that follow in their wake. Jim carries Izzy, Olu at their heels. He calls out orders as they go, and Stede supposes that makes sense. Who better to manage the care of an omega than another omega? The tension radiating from Ed suggests he doesn’t agree.

“Roach, bring us some hot water, yeah? And maybe a bit of that bark you give me for my headaches when my heat’s coming up. Frenchie, run and grab his nesting kit from the cargo hold—I’ll put it together for him, he can fix it when he wakes up.”

“On it,” Roach says, heading for the kitchen, as Frenchie replies, “You got it, babes,” and turns back towards the hold.

Olu opens the door to the captains’ quarters and Jim carries Izzy through without so much as a by-your-leave. Under the circ*mstances Stede supposes that’s fair. Jim doesn’t seem any happier than he is about it. They grimace as they lay Izzy in the captains’ bed, turning their head as though it smells foul to them. Stede thinks that’s a little over the top. They step back before he can comment on it—probably for the best, given the general vibe at the moment. Olu steps in, speaking softly as he checks Izzy over, despite the fact that Izzy can’t possibly hear him.

When Roach comes in with hot water and an unprepossessing bag of bark, it’s Olu who takes the cloth, still murmuring as he begins to gently wipe the filth from Izzy’s skin. He hesitates as he reaches Izzy’s thighs, looking up at Roach. A growl rises in Ed’s throat, cutting off abruptly as Jim turns to snarl at him again.

“It’s alright, mate, you’re okay, we’ve just got to take a look…”

Stede stretches up on his tiptoes, ignoring Jim’s warning growl. Izzy shifts under Roach and Olu’s hands, though he doesn’t wake. A terrified whimper slips from his throat as they push his thighs apart. Olu gasps. Roach hisses through his teeth.

“f*ck,” Olu mutters, dipping a clean cloth into the water. “Sorry, Iz, this is gonna hurt…”

Izzy’s whine is unmistakably pained as Olu cleans between his legs. The cloth comes away red-stained and Stede covers his mouth with a hand, eyes wide. Ed doesn’t watch. Instead, as Jim glares, he stalks over to a chair near the fireplace and flops down, folding his arms and staring at the ceiling, jaw set.

“What do you think?” Olu asks Roach. Stede feels totally out to sea, separate from his crew in a way he hasn’t been for months. It’s a lonely feeling.

Roach shrugs.

“Under the circ*mstances? We don’t have much choice.”

Olu hums, frowning.

“Maybe… maybe once would be enough? And then Jim could take over for the rest of his heat?”

Roach shakes his head grimly, feeling Izzy’s forehead with the back of his hand.

“He’s too far gone for that.” They both look in Ed’s direction, near identical expressions of distaste twisting their mouths. Ed stares stubbornly at the ceiling, wound on his neck seeping sluggishly, the collar of his shirt stained with drying blood. Roach speaks like he can’t quite believe what he’s saying.

“He needs his mate.”

*

Frenchie’s knock, when it comes, somehow manages to sound sheepish. When Jim opens the door, he thrusts a little pile of clothing, plus a rough spun blanket and the fur Ed saw earlier, into their arms.

“That’s all I could find,” he says apologetically. “I mean, I could look again…”

Jim shakes their head, staring down at the pathetic collection of nesting materials. They turn to Ed, looking for a moment more lost than angry.

“Where’s the rest?” they ask, as if Ed should have any idea what they’re talking about.

“The rest of what?” he asks, ostentatiously uninterested. Anger overtakes confusion in Jim’s face once again.

“His nest,” they say, a low growl building in their chest. “Where’s the rest of his f*cking nest.”

Ed leans back in his chair, ignoring the frisson of heat that crawls up the back of his neck—it feels uncomfortably close to shame.

“Izzy doesn’t do all that sh*t,” he says, waving a hand airily. Jim stares at him like he’s just puked down the front of his own shirt.

“Qué? What the f*ck do you mean, he doesn’t do that sh*t?”

Ed ignores the warning in their voice, crossing his legs at the ankles and stretching his hands over his head until his shoulders pop.

“You know,” he says, his casual tone coming out a bit more forced than he’d like. “f*cking… nesting, all that omega bullsh*t. Captain Hornigold wouldn’t f*cking stand for it, and neither will I. Besides, Izzy’s not that kind of omega.”

Jim’s growl builds to a snarl. For a moment, the tension in the room ratchets up as Jim reaches for one of their knives.

“Jim.”

Olu speaks quietly, gently, and Jim responds instantly. Their shoulders drop and they shake their head like they’re coming out of a trance. Ed can’t believe he just almost had his throat ripped out by the most c*nt-whipped alpha he’s ever seen. He folds his arms across his chest again, and stares into the fire.

*

Roach boils water in the fireplace, steeping a pale, bitter tea from the bark as Olu gently tucks Izzy’s nesting materials around him, grimacing at the rough blanket and threadbare clothing, all of it marked with no scent but Izzy’s. He glances at Ed a few times—Ed avoids meeting his gaze. Every time their eyes meet it feels as though Olu is staring straight through to the heart of him. Stede dithers near the bed, wringing his hands and occasionally looking over at Ed, eyes pained. Ed doesn’t understand it. Stede doesn’t even like Izzy.

Roach stirs a little honey into the tea, waiting for it to cool, and then he and Olu gently coax Izzy to drink it. Izzy moans, turning his head away, eyes still shut, face pale and clammy.

Ed leans forward in his chair, watching them manhandle his omega—f*cking coddling him, that’s what they’re doing. Jealousy flares in the pit of his stomach, easier and cleaner than the strange mix of emotions that lurk beneath it, ugly and messy and frightening. Jim growls every time he looks like he might stand, and he grinds his teeth until his jaw aches, stab wound in his neck throbbing with his heartbeat.

“What is that, exactly?”

Stede sidles closer to the bed, eyes wide as he watches them work. Ed looks back at the fire, pretending disinterest as he listens.

“Willow bark tea,” Roach says, sighing. “It should help bring the fever down, and cut the pain a little. He’s too weak for laudanum now.”

Roach pauses, and Ed can feel it as he turns to look at him. He crosses his arms tighter, sinking down in his chair. Roach clicks his tongue.

“There’s not much more we can do until he’s been knotted a few times.”

Ed growls. The scent of Izzy’s heat is too f*cking strong, the undertone of rot growing, too. A strange kind of panic thrums through him, unfamiliar and electric. He hates it. He f*cking hates it. Who the f*ck are they to come between him and his f*cking omega?

“So get the f*ck out and let me knot him, then.” He speaks through his teeth, snarl rumbling beneath it. An answering growl rises in Jim’s throat. They stand between him and the bed, teeth bared, hackles up.

“You really think we’re gonna leave you alone with him, you f*cking pendejo?” they snap, eyes flashing. Ed bursts up out of his chair, sending it clattering to the floor behind him. Jim’s knife is already in their hand. Ed stands in front of the fire, hands flexing, barely contained rage in every line of his body.

“If you think I’m f*cking touching him with you in this room you’re out of your f*cking mind, dog.”

Jim’s hand tightens on the hilt of their blade as they once again fight back the urge to stab him. Olu steps forward, placing a hand on their arm, comforting, and their breathing slows a little.

“Ed. Captain. He’ll die.” Olu sounds so f*cking reasonable, like he’s talking to a f*cking child, and if Jim wasn’t right there, Ed thinks he might break the f*cker’s neck. Jim’s growl kicks up a notch, as though they can hear his thoughts.

“That’s not my problem,” he says, digging his nails into the palms of his hands. It’s not his problem. It f*cking isn’t. Not his f*cking fault, either, if Izzy wasn’t such a stupid bitch, hiding from his alpha, f*cking working him up, practically begging to be put in his place… Ed’s chest rises and falls as he breathes, too hard, too fast, lungs aching. Olu’s hand on Jim’s arm won’t be enough to restrain them for long, he thinks. Hell, from the look on Olu’s face, Ed doesn’t even think he’ll try the next time Jim comes for him. His hands flex again, skin hot and tight, strange sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and he wishes they’d f*cking do it already. He can take them this time. And even if he can’t, well, it’s hardly the end of the world if—

“I’ll stay.”

Ed’s eyes snap to Stede, standing by Izzy’s bedside, eyes wide as he looks between Ed and Jim and Olu. He quails a little as all eyes turn to him, clasping his hands in front of him and shrugging nervously.

“That… that would be an acceptable compromise, wouldn’t it, Edward?” Stede’s trying for confidence, but lands a lot closer to pleading, turning back towards Jim and Olu. “Please. For Izzy’s sake?”

Olu squeezes Jim’s bicep gently. Jim’s jaw works, tension threatening to snap at any moment. They inhale sharply.

“Fine,” they growl, finally. “But Roach gets to come in and check on him whenever we say.”

Stede nods desperately, squeezing his hands together rhythmically as he looks back at Ed, eyes pleading again.

“Of course! That’s fine! Isn’t it, Ed?”

Ed’s lips press together, bloodless. He looks into Stede’s eyes. The fear he sees there makes him feel like he’s about to throw up. Izzy shifts, moaning again, clutching that f*cking fur to his chest, and for some reason that makes him feel sick too. He exhales slowly, staring down at the floor. Finally, feeling like he’s being held hostage by his own f*cking crew, he nods.

Stede claps his hands, and all of them jump at the sudden noise.

“Good!” he says, too bright, very nearly manic. “That’s good! Perfect! An excellent example, if I may, of the importance of talking it through—“

“God, just, shut the f*ck up, captain.” Roach shakes his head as he speaks, exhausted. Stede’s mouth snaps shut. None of them speak as Roach checks Izzy’s temperature again, then his pulse. He hums, a quiet, worried sound. Roach is the last to leave after Olu gently but inexorably pulls Jim from the room. He speaks to Stede as he leaves, not even bothering to look at Ed.

“He can take more tea in about an hour. Just one cup, with a bit of honey for the taste. I’ll be back to check on him soon.” His eyes dart to Ed, just for an instant, mouth set in a disapproving line. “Very soon.”

And then they’re alone.

Chapter 3

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Stede closes the door behind Roach with a click and, after just a moment’s hesitation, locks it. He’ll open it immediately when they knock, of course! If there’s anything the… the incident at the cargo hold demonstrated, it’s that locked doors are really just a suggestion with Wee John on board. He has no intention of keeping anyone out—he just wants at least a few seconds to make sure that everything is, well, shipshape. He tugs his shirt down sharply and turns back to the bed nook.

Ed stands still for a moment, hands still flexing, catching his breath. That’s probably a good thing.

Stede’s stomach twists. He still doesn’t know what to make of what he saw in the hold. He knows what it looked like, of course, but, well, he can’t really imagine Ed would be capable of that sort of violence… He’s always been such a gentle lover with Stede—he always lets Stede take the reins, as it were. He likes to be spoiled, and Stede has been more than happy to spoil him.

When he stepped into the cargo hold, it had taken him a couple of seconds to understand what he was seeing. Izzy, naked and sobbing, bleeding from his most intimate places. And then Ed, his Ed, simply taking him by the hair and striking him… the blood on Izzy’s cheek…

Stede shudders. He had hoped, in those brief seconds that this was simply some normal part of an alpha/omega relationship. Stede’s a beta—he’d only ever been with betas, before Ed. Well, a beta. No need to overstate things, even if only in his own mind. But Jim’s response certainly doesn’t support the idea that this was normal for a heat. Of course, Jim is likely a rather unusual alpha. Stede clings to the thin lifeline of doubt.

Ed exhales, pushing the air out of his lungs and sucking in a mouthful. The scent of Izzy’s heat is intense even to Stede’s beta senses. It must be overwhelming for Ed. Ed growls quietly, eyes fixed on the bed nook. His jaw twitches as he stalks forward, shoulders hunched, tense. Stede’s eyes widen.

“Um, Edward? Darling?” He asks, voice barely squeaking at all, thank you very much. Ed stops as suddenly as he started, whirling to face Stede. Stede finds himself stepping back, raising his hands apologetically. “I just… I thought you might want to discuss, um, what happened? And what’s happening now?”

Ed snorts, incredulous.

“f*ck is there to talk about, Stede?” he says, almost contemptuous. “He needs a knot. You think you need to tell me how to knot my f*cking omega?”

Stede dithers, unease making his belly churn.

“Well, I mean, that is… I suppose not, but still—“

“Good,” Ed says, cutting him off. “Then just stay the f*ck out of my way and let me get on with it.”

Stede twists his hands together, trying to ignore the panic rising in the back of his throat. It’s Ed. He knows Ed. He trusts Ed. Still, he moves a bit closer to the nook—he’ll just keep an eye on things. That’s what he’s here for, after all.

Izzy whimpers quietly, twisting uneasily in his sleep as Ed’s weight makes the mattress dip. Stede’s eyes widen as Ed reaches for his fall front, not bothering to undress. It feels strange, unnerving somehow to see Ed, fully clothed, looming over Izzy, naked and unconscious in their bed. Ed’s co*ck is still streaked with drying blood from the incident in the hold.

“Edward!” Stede gasps as Ed guides his prick towards Izzy’s c*nt.

“What?” Ed snaps, exasperated, turning to glare at Stede. Stede gestures towards his groin eyebrows raised. Ed looks down at his co*ck, then back up at Stede, looking less than enlightened as he repeats, “What?”

Stede blushes.

“Well,” he says, “don’t you think you should, uh, get cleaned up before you… you… you know..?”

Ed wrinkles his nose, tilting his head in a familiar display of bafflement. Under other circ*mstances, Stede would find it charming.

“What for?” Ed asks, irritated at the interruption. Stede mouth opens and shuts as he contemplates his response. Ed huffs, waiting.

“Well… I mean, after all, you just… um… that is, you were, uh, just recently you…” He shifts from foot to foot, still not quite sure how to describe what Ed was doing in the hold. He takes a deep breath. “Well, it’s not exactly sanitary, is it?”

Ed rolls his eyes.

“Oh, come on,” he says, as though Stede is being ridiculous. “It’s never been a problem before.”

Stede isn’t entirely sure he wants to examine the implications of that sentence too closely. Best to focus on the problem at hand.

“I mean, I’m not sure that’s true, but…” He racks his brain for an argument Ed might find convincing. Ed folds his arms over his chest and watches him, clearly impatient. Izzy shivers and whines, tossing and turning again. Stede forces a smile. “Just… for my peace of mind, alright, darling?”

Ed rolls his eyes again, though at least it seems affectionate this time.

“Fine,” he says. He clambers off the bed again, stomping over to the basin. He grabs a washcloth, scrubbing the streaks of blood and filth from his co*ck, muttering to himself. “Just gonna get dirty again, anyway.”

Finally he turns back to Stede, gesturing towards his co*ck, hard and bobbing, between his legs.

“Happy now?” he demands. Stede smiles another hollow smile.

“Delighted, my love,” he says, and that may be overdoing it. Still, he wants to encourage good habits. Ed doesn’t respond, stomping back to the bed with all the grace of a surly teenager. Izzy whimpers softly as Ed crawls on top of him.

“Um, darling, don’t you think you should…”

Ed thrusts into Izzy’s c*nt without preamble. Stede winces as Izzy, still unconscious, grimaces.

“…right, okay, no foreplay at all, then, I mean, I suppose under the circ*mstances perhaps getting him a knot is the priority, bu— Edward!” Stede cuts himself off with an indignant squawk. Ed, one hand fisted in Izzy’s hair, the other wrapped around his throat, looks up, annoyed.

“What now?” he demands. Izzy’s breath rattles in his chest as Ed squeezes his throat firmly.

“Oh, come on!” Stede exclaims. “Getting straight to the knot I can understand, but I really don’t see what you’re achieving with the— the hair pulling. And… Edward, for god’s sake, he can’t breathe!”

Ed looks down at Izzy, whose face has gone red. He relaxes his grip, then looks back at Stede, one hand still tangled in Izzy’s hair.

“Well, stop f*cking distracting me,” he snaps. Stede throws his hands up, turning with a dramatic swirl of his tailcoat.

“Oh, so you’d rather I don’t say anything when you’re about to kill him, eh?” he snipes with another little swirl so he can glare at Ed, hands on his hips.

“f*ck’s sake, Stede, I’m not gonna f*ckin’ kill Izzy,” Ed says. He waves vaguely in Izzy’s direction. Izzy, with no sign of lucidity, groans, then coughs, sucking in a painful sounding breath. His head twists, and he whimpers as Ed’s hand tightens in his hair, tears rolling from his closed eyes across the bridge of his nose and down over his temple. Ed gives him a little shake, rolling his eyes when Izzy whines again. “Come on, man, he’s just being dramatic!”

Stede’s jaw drops.

“Edward! He can’t be f*cking dramatic—he’s not even conscious!”

Ed hums, apparently unconvinced.

“You’d be surprised,” he declares. “Omegas are just, like, naturally dramatic—he always cries when he gets f*cked, even if it starts when he’s asleep!”

Stede has to take a step back as he processes that sentence. Edward is, without a doubt, one of the cleverest men he’s ever met, possibly the cleverest, actually. Somehow, it’s hard to reconcile that fact with the fact that Ed’s just said the stupidest thing he’s ever heard somebody say, and he’s including all the stupid things he’s ever said himself in that estimation.

Ed, seemingly satisfied that he’s made his point, returns to f*cking Izzy at a brutal pace.

*

Ed doesn’t know what the f*ck Stede’s problem is. The crew, at least, he understands—they don’t like him. They’ve been looking for a reason to get rid of him for months. A mutiny doesn’t come as much of a surprise, though he supposes it’s a bit weird that they’ve chosen to make some trumped up worries about Izzy’s wellbeing their justification. To get Stede on their side? Still a weird choice, Stede’s never liked Izzy.

But that doesn’t explain why Stede hasn’t seen straight through it. Maybe it’s because he’s a beta? He’s only ever been with his beta wife, so of course he wouldn’t know anything about the proper way for an alpha to treat an omega…

It still stings that Stede hasn’t spoken up in his defense.

Ed sets his jaw against that hurt, channelling all the frustration, all the confusion and the fear into f*cking Izzy. He holds tight to Izzy’s hair, using it for leverage as he thrusts brutally hard into the hot, wet heat of his c*nt. Izzy whimpers again, more tears slowly dripping from his eyes. Ed resists the urge to backhand him—he doesn’t think Stede would take it very well. He can see Stede out the corner of his eye—he looks genuinely disturbed, mouth still opening and shutting despite what Ed feels was a pretty good conversation. Productive, even!

He grits his teeth, focusing on Izzy’s c*nt. He can feel his knot swelling, squeezing past the mouth of Izzy’s c*nt. Christ, it feels even tighter than usual—still swollen from last night, probably. Izzy always tenses right up for a while after a rut. Uptight little bastard. He’s whining continuously now, quiet little yips punctuating each thrust as Ed forces his knot in and out of his injured c*nt.

“Edward, for god’s sake…” Stede sounds like he’s in pain. Ed swallows, shoving down the queasy feeling that rises in him as he hears it. It doesn’t matter anyway—the next time Ed tries to pull out, he can’t. His knot’s caught. He switches to the short, sharp thrusts he likes when he’s trying to come. Izzy’s breath sounds more like sobbing now—that’s not unusual, either. Stede hisses quietly. Ed ignores him, focused on holding Izzy in place as he thrusts into him sharply. His grip on Izzy’s hair pulls his head back at an awkward angle. Izzy’s breath sounds strained again. Well, he’ll just have to f*cking deal with it. It’s his own fault that this is happening anyway. If he’d just come to Ed like he was f*cking supposed to… if he’d only act like a f*cking omega and f*cking submit like he’s f*cking supposed to… Ed’s hand tightens in Izzy’s hair, wrenching his head further back, exposing the long column of his throat. He knows every mark on it, from the faded swallow soaring skyward to the stark red of fingerprints layered over darker, older bruises. All those marks belong to Ed. Izzy f*cking belongs to Ed. He buries his face in the side of Izzy’s neck, desperately breathing in the scent of him as he comes.

He stays there for a moment, panting softly, tasting Izzy’s scent, knot locked in his c*nt. Some of the sickly sweetness has receded, leaving more of the rich jasmine of Izzy’s heat and, below it, the cedar and salt spray of Izzy himself. Just once, face hidden from Stede, Izzy still breathing short and shallow, deep in the broken sleep of a heat gone bad, Ed lets his tongue dart out, laving over Izzy’s scent gland. Just once. The tightness in his chest eases the tiniest bit. Izzy whimpers softly and Ed pulls back, blinking too fast. He needs to get himself under control. Give ‘em an inch and they’ll take a mile. Can’t be too soft with them.

“Edward?”

Stede speaks quietly. Ed doesn’t want to look at him.

“Edward, we do have to talk about this.”

Ed stares resolutely at the crumpled sheet beneath Izzy’s left shoulder.

“Don’t see what there is to talk about,” he says flatly. Christ, why won’t Stede just f*cking drop it?

Stede sits down on the edge of the bed, facing away from him. Ed can’t decide if that makes him feel better or not.

“Alright,” Stede says. He sounds exhausted. “Let’s start with something small, okay?”

Ed just shrugs, still staring at the bit of sheet, tracing the contours of it like a mountain on the horizon. Stede sighs deeply, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. “So. The hair pulling just now. What was that about?”

Ed shrugs again, discomfited. The silence stretches out and he realizes Stede’s waiting for him to answer.

“Dunno,” he mumbles finally. “Just feels good.”

“Okay!” Stede says encouragingly. “And does it feel good to Izzy, do you think?”

Ed snorts, looking at the back of Stede’s head.

“Don’t think much feels good to him right now, mate, he’s out cold.”

“Ed, that’s part of the problem!” Stede shouts, standing up again. He paces away from the bed and the back again, staring at Ed with his arms crossed, frowning. Ed goes back to following the lines of the sheets as though he might be able to read them like the clouds. Stede takes a deep breath, like he always does when he’s getting ready to come at a problem from a new angle.

“Okay. Okay.” He unfolds his arms, holding his hands up in a peace offering. “Does Izzy enjoy that when he’s not unconscious?”

He sounds almost hopeful, though Ed doesn’t totally understand why.

“How the f*ck would I know?” he asks, trying to figure out the riddle Stede’s posing. “I’m not a f*cking mind reader!”

Stede looks at him indignantly.

“Well, you could always ask him, couldn’t you, Edward? You always ask me if I’m enjoying things when we’re making love!”

Ed pulls a face, laughing as he responds.

“I wouldn’t call what me and Iz get up to making love, mate,” he says.

“I should bloody think not, under the circ*mstances!” Stede says. “But you could still ask him.”

It feels like a joke, or another riddle. Ed wrinkles his nose, mulling it over.

“Okay, I’ll bite,” he says finally. “Why?”

Stede covers his face with his hands, giving a muffled scream. He takes a deep breath, pushing his hands back through his hair.

“Well, because he’s a human being, for one thing,” Stede replies. Ed pulls another face.

“I mean, yeah, technically,” he says. “But like, he’s an omega.”

Stede just stares at him, expression unchanged.

“He’s my omega, Stede.” Ed stares up at Stede, waiting for the penny to drop. Stede just stares back. Ed rolls his eyes. “What, like, you think I should just ask him if he likes everything I do while we’re f*cking?”

“Yes!” Stede replies. Ed shifts, trying to sit up straight. Izzy whines quietly as the movement jostles the knot in his c*nt—Ed ignores him.

“And I suppose I should ask his permission before f*cking him at all, eh?” he sneers, taking Stede’s argument to its most absurd conclusion.

“Yes!” Stede shouts back. Ed’s hands ball into fists. He wants to hit something. He wants to tear something apart.

“But why?” he yells, trying to follow Stede’s inexplicable reasoning.

“Because, Edward, otherwise it’s rape!”

*

For a long moment, Ed just stares at him, mouth open, and then…

“f*ck off.”

Ed turns away, mouth set, and Stede supposes he could have been a bit more diplomatic. He's not entirely sure there is a diplomatic way to tell the man who's been his lover for the better part of half a year that he's a rapist, but with a little time and effort, he's certain he could…

“Edward! What are you doing?” His voice squeaks. Ed, hands on Izzy's hips, tugs at his knot again. Izzy lets out another quiet whine.

“I'm not having this f*cking conversation with you while I've still got my f*cking knot in his c*nt,” Ed declares. He tugs again and Izzy sobs, eyes still shut, body starting to shake.

“What, so you'll just rip it out of him?” Stede says, once again aghast.

“f*ck else am I supposed to do?” Ed asks. He grips Izzy's hips tight, fingers digging into the already bruised flesh, and begins wriggling, yanking at the knot.

“Edward, stop it,” Stede says. His hands flap desperately as Ed tugs again. “Stop it!”

“You're the one who wanted to f*cking talk, mate,” Ed snarls, teeth bared and, god, he's really just going to tear his way out of Izzy's c*nt. Izzy's panting now, hyperventilating, sweat breaking out across his pale face and before Stede has a chance to think about it on any conscious level, his hand flies out, catching Ed across the cheek with a sharp CRACK.

Ed freezes, staring at Stede with wide, hurt eyes. He raises a hand to his cheek, touching the mark blooming there with shaking fingers.

“You…” he starts.

“I said stop,” Stede says. The palm of his hand stings. He takes a breath, willing his voice not to shake—under the circ*mstances, he thinks he does quite well. “Now, you are going to stay exactly where you are, with no more… no more bloody wiggling until your knot’s gone down on its own. Is that clear, Edward?”

Ed doesn't speak, lip jutting in a pretty pout below his shocked, liquid eyes. Stede raises his eyebrows, waiting, and Ed, finally, nods sharply, just once.

“Good,” Stede says, feeling as though he's gone utterly mad. “That's good.”

Ed doesn't reply—he lies down awkwardly, seemingly unwilling to touch Izzy any more than necessary. Stede swallows, feeling a bit sick.

“Right,” he says, “time for a cup of tea, I think.”

*

Stede hums nervously as he boils the kettle over the fire. Ed ignores him studiously, still thoroughly stuck in Izzy's c*nt. It's been at least ten minutes longer than he would usually leave it—one good tug would pop him free, but every time he moves to get leverage, Stede tuts at him. It's f*cking stupid. He hates this part, nothing to f*cking do but lie here, feeling like he's about to choke to death on Izzy's f*cking scent. The rot has receded a bit more, fainter with every minute they're locked together, but it's still there, sour and sickening. Ed swallows, shifting again.

“Ah, ah, ah,” Stede says, reappearing by the side of the bed. He carries a tray, two cups of Earl Grey and one of the pale willow tea steaming on a delicately embroidered lace doily. “No wiggling.”

“Stede,” Ed whines, giving Stede his widest, most pathetic eyes. “My neck hurts. And I'm bored!”

Stede, infuriatingly, is utterly unmoved. He spoons six sugars into Ed's cup, then adds a generous dollop of cream.

“Careful, now,” he says as he carefully passes it to Ed. Ed takes it awkwardly, lying with his torso twisted so he can rest on one elbow, sipping his fragrant, milky tea. Stede sets the tray down on a little side table and settles himself on the bed, near Izzy's head. Ed watches him closely, trying to work out what's happening in his mind. He's usually so good at reading Stede, picking up moods and impulses as they flit across his open, expressive face. There's none of that today—Stede's expression is closed, lips tight. Ed doesn't have the faintest idea what he's thinking. Stede reaches over to the tray, picking up the willow bark tea instead of his own. Ed opens his mouth to warn him before he takes a sip, but Stede has already turned towards Izzy. He shuffles closer, humming softly when Izzy whimpers softly as the motion jostles him.

“Here we go,” Stede says quietly. He touches Izzy's head with something uncomfortably close to tenderness. “Let's just get you propped up a bit and then you can have a bit of this, alright? Roach says it'll make you feel better…”

“Stede,” Ed says flatly, “he's out cold, he can't f*cking hear you. Why don't you just drink your tea and worry about him later?”

Ed's heart pounds uncomfortably as Stede looks up at him—he looks disappointed. He looks f*cking sad. Ed slurps his tea noisily, looking away as Stede carefully shifts Izzy's head into his lap, still mumbling nonsensically, sounding almost affectionate.

“There we are… good, that's good, another sip, now…”

Sip by sip, as his own tea cools untouched on the table, Stede coaxes Izzy to drink. Sip by sip, the sour note beneath Izzy's scent continues to fade. Ed shifts, his neck aching, back threatening to seize as he holds the awkward, twisted position. He finishes his tea quickly, dropping the tea cup on the duvet. Stede, utterly absorbed in Izzy, doesn't even say anything. Ed crosses his arms over his chest, huffing. He's sure he could get free now, if Stede would stop being such a bitch about it. Izzy might not even tear, at least not any worse than he is already. God, this is f*cking bullsh*t.

“There, that's all—good job, Izzy!” Stede pats Izzy's cheek as he sets the empty cup aside. The growl that rises in Ed's throat catches even him by surprise. Stede's eyes snap to his, narrowing slightly. Edward glares back, jaw jutting stubbornly. He feels… he doesn’t know how he f*cking feels. He f*cking hates the way Stede’s touching Izzy, like he’s some fragile, broken thing. Like he’s something precious. It makes him f*cking shiver, fighting the urge to get up and run. It makes him feel like he’s missing something. Like he’s missed something. Like there’s a voice in the back of his head that he’s too used to ignoring.

“He doesn’t need f*cking coddling, Stede,” he snaps, pushing the thought from his mind. “What the f*ck do you know about omegas, anyway?”

Stede looks down at Izzy—he smiles ruefully.

“Very little, I’ll admit,” he says, easily enough. Ed gesticulates expressively, point, in his opinion, made. Stede strokes Izzy’s hair back from his forehead. Ed’s growl rises again, louder this time. Stede doesn’t even look up. “I’ve been learning about them, though.”

Stede speaks quietly, measured. It makes Ed f*cking nervous, skin hot and aching. He usually gets this feeling when there’s a storm brewing.

“I’ve learned enough to know they’re people, Ed.”

“Oh, like you’re so f*cking good with people? How are your kids doing, anyway?” Ed snaps the words like a whip, aiming for Stede’s softest parts. They don’t land the way he hoped. Stede laughs quietly, though there’s precious little humour in the sound.

“God, Ed, I don’t claim to be a perfect father, or even a good one. I mean, at this point I’m not really a father at all,” he says. He pauses in stroking Izzy’s hair, cupping his cheek in his hand. “I’ve been learning about people, though, or trying to.” He looks up at Ed, serious and f*cking sad again. “I’ve learned enough to know when they’re hurt, at least. And I think I know when they need help.”

Ed huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, and you think Izzy f*cking Hands needs your help, that it? Blackbeard’s first mate? Scourge of the f*cking Caribbean?”

Stede, the f*cking bastard, rolls his eyes right back.

“Oh, for god’s sake, Ed, you both need help! And at the moment, it’s me or a crew that I’m relatively sure voted to throw you off the ship very shortly after they left this room. I know which I’d pick!”

“I don’t need any f*cking help, mate, I’m f*cking Blackbeard!” Ed shouts back, pushing himself away from Izzy with sudden force—his knot, almost shrunken enough to slip out of Izzy’s c*nt on its own, pops free. Izzy yelps, eyes flying open. He shouts, shoving at Stede, pushing himself up and out of his lap. He launches himself backwards, gasping, eyes unfocused, and presses his body into a corner, pulling his good knee to his chest, left thigh awkwardly splayed. Stede can see the wound in his c*nt bleeding sluggishly again.

The door handle rattles. Stede and Ed freeze, staring at each other. A loud knock, accompanied by Roach’s voice.

“Check-up time! Open up, quick, before I tell Jim you had this door locked.”

Ed looks at Izzy, shivering in a corner of the bed nook. He looks at Stede, who wrings his hands as he calls “Just coming!”, voice too high, his usually-pink cheeks paler than Ed’s ever seen them. He has the sudden, sickening feeling that something has gone very badly wrong.

Chapter 4

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Stede wipes his hands on his jacket as he walks to the door. Roach’s timing leaves something to be desired, but given how much the crew had conceded to even grant them this much privacy, it wasn’t exactly surprising. They’d had more time than he expected.

He turns the key in the lock and opens the door just a crack, sticking his head out into the hall. Roach and Wee John, looming at his shoulder as backup, look unimpressed.

“Something wrong, captain?” Roach says. Stede smiles as casually as he can, wrinkling his nose in a way he’s relatively sure makes him look charming and insouciant.

“Wrong! No… no!” he says, trying to lean comfortably with his head in the hall and the rest of him still in the captains’ cabin. He thinks he’s doing a fair job of it, too. Certainly fairer than Roach and Wee John’s expressions would suggest. He just has to keep talking—that’s what casual, comfortable, cool people do! “What would be wrong? Everything’s… everything’s just spiffy, which… which you’re about to see for yourself, since you’re coming in. I’m! I’m letting you in, as a matter of fact. To see. That nothing’s wrong, I mean.”

Roach raises his eyebrows, still seeming not entirely convinced.

“Good!” he says, patting Stede on the shoulder as he begins to push past him. “That’s good, captain…”

Roach doesn’t seem entirely sincere, somehow. Perhaps more talking will help!

“Um… well,” Stede says, twisting to hold the door mostly closed for a moment longer. From the look on Wee John’s face, a moment is the most he can hope for. He grabs Roach’s sleeve, eyes pleading for understanding. “It’s… it’s not that there’s anything wrong, exactly… it’s just… well, Izzy’s just woken up. And he’s… well, he seems a bit upset…”

That’s all the moment Stede gets. Roach and John push forward as a united force without so much as a glance passing between them. Stede skitters out of the way, dancing backwards to keep from being rather seriously concussed by the door as it ricochets off the wall. Roach heads straight to the bed nook. Ed hovers near the fireplace, co*ck tucked away in his leathers again, arms crossed over his chest. He looks away as Roach slows his steps, approaching Izzy with his hands raised. A day ago, Stede would have said Ed looked ashamed. After everything he’s seen today, he’s not sure he knows Ed well enough to hazard a guess.

Stede takes a few steps towards the nook, peering around Wee John’s bulk to see Roach crouch down next to the bed.

“Hey, little man,” he says quietly. “I need to make sure you’re okay, yeah?”

Izzy looks at him, eyes still unfocused, fever bright. He pants, breathing too fast, colour blooming high on his cheekbones. His hair, sweat-damp, flops over one eye. Roach extends a hand, slowly, slowly. Izzy tracks its movement as though it’s a snake, ready to strike at any moment. He whines, uncertain. “Here, come on. Smell.”

Roach nods, encouraging, and waits. Izzy whines again. And then, moving carefully—moving like it hurts, Stede can’t help but think—he edges a little closer. Roach holds up his wrist, not moving, barely breathing. Finally, with one last little shuffle, Izzy leans forward, mouth open as he breathes in Roach’s scent. He huffs quietly. He almost sounds pleased.

“Pack?”

Izzy speaks so softly that Stede almost misses it. Instantly, Izzy’s eyes dart around the room. They settle on Ed and he whimpers, letting his gaze drop, moving away from Roach’s outstretched wrist. Roach follows his gaze, eyes hardening as he catches Ed’s eyes. He turns his attention back to Izzy, slowly standing as John moves to block Ed’s view of the bed. Ed shifts from foot to foot, uncomfortable, craning his neck. Well, thank heaven for small mercies, Stede thinks—at least he’s not bloody growling yet.

Stede moves closer still, straining his ears to make sense of the soft murmur of Roach’s voice. He wonders if Ed’s alpha senses, no doubt heightened by his omega’s heat, fare any better.

“That’s right, I’m pack,” Roach says. He sits down on the edge of the bed. John crowds in closer, protective. He holds his arm out too. Some of the Izzy’s tension eases as he catches another omega’s scent. Roach reaches out again, placing a careful hand on Izzy’s leg. Stede’s suddenly glad of Wee John’s presence, if for no other reason than that his body is the only thing blocking Ed from seeing someone else touching his omega. If his reaction to Stede, his own bloody mate, touching Izzy while Ed was literally inside of him is anything to go by, Stede’s willing to bet it would go… badly.

“Just lay back, okay, little man?” Roach says. “We need to make sure our omega’s not hurt.”

*

Ed folds his arms tightly, suppressing the urge to growl. He can’t see what they’re doing. He can’t see what they’re doing to his omega. His fingers dig into his biceps—he wants to shout, to tell them all to get the f*ck out. He can hear Roach speaking but he can’t pick out the words. Roach’s voice is too soft, and Wee John’s body blocks off the bed more effectively than any screen. Stede hovers behind him, shifting to and fro to keep an eye on whatever the f*ck they’re doing.

Ed doesn’t see the point. Izzy’s awake now—his heat smells almost normal, only a touch of that sickly sweet undertone remaining, plus the usual sharp edge of distress. They should just bloody ask him about it. He could tell them it’s normal. Izzy always freaks out about his heats. If he’d just f*cking accept it, let his alpha do what needs to be done without making such a bloody fuss, everything would be fine, but he always puts up a fight. He’s always been like this, all the way back to Hornigold, and Ed gives him loads more leeway than their old captain did. Made him his first mate, didn’t he? Sometimes he wonders if that was a mistake. Hornigold would sure as hell say it was, no matter how much skill Izzy showed with the blade. Maybe Ed’s always expected too much of him.

He remembers the first time Hornigold called him into his cabin, just after his first rut started. He remembers the fire under his skin, the ache in his jaw, wanting to fight, wanting to bite something, wanting to… just f*cking wanting…

In his memory, Hornigold smiles at him, eyes flat black, like a shark.

“Can’t have one of my most promising young recruits going into a blood rage, now can I?”

Ed didn’t even know what a blood rage was. Hell, he hadn’t even realized he was an alpha until Hornigold explained it.

“You’re a natural leader, son. Born for command.”

Hornigold’s hand on his shoulder, smile never touching his eyes, watching Ed too closely. When he pulled back the curtains around his bed, Ed thought he must be dreaming.

Izzy, kneeling, naked except for his gold collar, thick and heavy, a shining chain tying him to the foot of the bed. His hands on his thighs, eyes down, thick lashes shadowing his cheeks, dusted pink with a flush. Ed could taste his fear, his uncertainty, and underneath it, jasmine and salt.

“Just do what comes naturally, lad—it’s what he’s for.”

Hornigold had snapped his fingers and Izzy moved instantly, turning to press his thick, furry chest into the sheets, hips in the air, the lips of his c*nt parting softly as he spread his knees wide.

Ed remembers the bite of the muzzle as Hornigold tightened the straps behind his head.

“The last thing a bright young lad like you needs is a bond with some omega whor*,” Hornigold whispered, hands on Ed’s shoulders. “You’ll learn that quick enough, of course, but for the moment, we won’t take any chances…”

Ed’s heart pounded in his throat, co*ck so hard it f*cking ached. Still, his first instinct, when he finally climbed into the bed behind Izzy, was just to touch him, running fingers down the length of his spine, caressing his flank, wondering. Hornigold hummed, disapproving.

“Get on with it, Teach—no need to f*cking woo him.”

Beneath him, Izzy shivered, face pressed into the sheets, hands clutching them tight. He made a little sound as Ed’s co*ck pushed into him, halfway between a grunt and a whimper, and Ed froze.

“I… I don’t want to hurt him.”

Hornigold’s face twisted, indulgence turning to rage like lightning from a clear sky. He reached out, grasping Izzy by the hair, pulling his head up sharply.

“You can’t hurt him, Teach,” he declared. Izzy had squeezed his eyes shut, a tear leaking out and rolling down his soft, unblemished cheek. “I told you, this is what he’s for. Isn’t that right, little bird?”

“Yes, captain.” Izzy’s voice was a soft growl, his answer too quick. Hornigold shoved his head back down into the sheets, then grabbed one of Ed’s hands, pulling it to the back of Izzy’s head, showing him how to hold him down. His co*ck throbbed in the tight, wet heat of Izzy’s c*nt, aching as his knot began to swell for the first time.

“Go on, boy. Your body knows what to do.”

Izzy whined quietly, the sound making Ed’s prick somehow impossibly harder. A growl built in his chest, uncontrollable. His hand tightened on the back of Izzy’s neck, pinning him down, feeling him submit, body going limp. And then, as Hornigold watched, cold smile spreading over his face, he’d f*cked into Izzy again, hips pistoning of their own accord, faster, harder, punching little whines and moans out of Izzy. The feel of Izzy’s c*nt clenching around him, clutching at his knot as it bullied in and out of him, the sound of his breath, hitching and wet as he cried quietly…

Ed remembers bending double as he came, body collapsing over top of Izzy’s, teeth f*cking itching behind the muzzle, every instinct in his body telling him to bite, to claim.

Hornigold laughed, delighted, reaching out to pet Ed’s hair, like a loyal dog at the end of a hunt.

“That’s it, lad… we’ll make a proper alpha of you yet…”

He’d let Ed stay for ten minutes or so, just until his knot started to go down, and then, “Alright Teach, that’s enough—you’ve got duties to attend to, I believe.”

“But sir, I’m still…”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Omega c*nts are remarkably resilient—no need to waste your time waiting longer than necessary. You can’t coddle them, Teach. Never forget that. A bitch needs to know who the alpha is. Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.”

He remembers Izzy’s quiet whimper, the way it felt the moment his c*nt split, Ed’s knot tearing free. He remembers blood on the sheets and Hornigold’s laugh and the sun on the waves as he leaned over the railing and puked until nothing but spit and bile were left.

Ed shivers, attention drawn back to the bed nook as Roach slips off the bed, Wee John still blocking his view of Izzy. Roach glances at him, mouth tight, eyes flinty.

“He’s bleeding again,” he says, accusatory. Stede grimaces, looking back at Ed reproachfully. Ed draws himself up, indignant.

“And how the f*ck am I supposed to avoid that, huh? His f*cking c*nt’s still torn from yesterday, it’s not my f*cking fault he went and had a heat right after my f*cking rut.”

Stede gives him another of those horrified looks. Ed tells himself again that it’s just that Stede doesn’t know the first thing about alphas and omegas. No one on this ship does, not even the f*cking alphas and omegas, bizarrely enough. Not that it’s that surprising—that’s what you get for building a crew of odds and ends, the leftovers no other ship would take on…

Roach and Wee John exchange a glance. Ed can’t even guess what they’re thinking. It’s all f*cking topsy turvy lately. Finally, Roach fixes him with another cold stare.

“I will come in to check on him again in an hour. If I think you are hurting him, I will tell Jim—it is possible that they will let you live long enough for Izzy to recover from this heat, but I would not bet on it.”

“But… but wouldn’t that kill Izzy as well?” Stede asks, glancing nervously between Ed and Roach. Roach just shrugs.

“At this rate, your mate will f*cking kill him before the end of this heat.”

Stede’s eyes widen. Ed’s guts go cold. That’s bullsh*t. Roach wants to f*cking scare him. This is what Izzy’s for.

“Remember, one hour,” Roach says, addressing himself to Stede as though Ed isn’t even in the room. “If you want either of them to survive, keep your mate under control. And for f*ck’s sake, help Izzy build a proper nest.”

Roach opens the door, waiting as John pats Izzy gently on the arm.

“See you soon, Iz,” the big omega rumbles fondly.

The door clicks shut, and Ed stares over at the bed. Izzy lies in the centre of it, thighs drawn up to his chest, eyes down. He remembers the sun on the waves, the sickness in his belly. None of this makes any f*cking sense. The hollow space in his chest aches as Hornigold’s voice echoes in his memory. You can’t hurt him. It’s what he’s for.

*

Izzy can’t f*cking think straight. His vision blurs, light breaking like starbursts, like oil lamps glowing through mist. It takes him too long to catch the scent of the lanky beta kneeling by his bedside. He whines quietly as the man extends his wrist, makes his way over to scent it too slowly. He huffs, taking in the sharp yeast of rising dough cut with the warm, sweet woodspice of cardamom, and a hint of sea salt beneath. The man smells good. He smells…

“Pack?”

Izzy freezes, hearing the word come out of his mouth. He knows it’s not allowed, though he doesn’t know why. He knows he has to be careful. He whimpers a little, barely more than an airy squeak in the back of his throat. He can’t see the room beyond the large omega—that man smells of gunpowder, of vanilla, of the sharp breeze that blows over the waves on a winter day. It’s familiar. Izzy knows these men…

“That’s right, pack!” The man smiles at him, and that feels dangerous, too. He’s still smiling, though. He smells calm, too, or calmer than Izzy anyway. Izzy drifts, head swimming, lights flaring, bright then dim, then bright again. The man’s hand is on his thigh. Izzy whines again, uncertain, vulnerable, and god he wants a nest, he needs it, needs someplace to hide, and now the man’s speaking, and Izzy struggles to pay attention.

“…need to make sure our omega’s not hurt, yeah?”

Izzy doesn’t quite follow, but then the man’s hands are on his shoulders, guiding him to lie back on the bed. His breathing picks up a notch, but then the other omega moves closer. Feeney, he thinks suddenly, before his attention drifts again. It makes him feel… well, not quite safe. Still, he shakes, whining softly as Feeney hums, stroking his hair. He jerks when the other man—Roach, the name slips into his mind at last— gently presses his knees apart, spreading his legs. He whimpers louder, breathing too quick, too shallow as Roach’s hands move, cautious but sure, towards his c*nt. It throbs and he cringes, pain warring with need. It hurts, it f*cking hurts, everything hurts and he still… he wants…

“Shh, I know, I know… I just have to check between your legs, okay? I’m going to touch your c*nt, but just the outside.” Roach speaks softly, hands gentle as he checks Izzy’s c*nt. He frowns, jaw tightening and Izzy whines, turning his head toward Feeney.

“There now, you’re alright,” Feeney rumbles. He strokes Izzy’s hair again, his scent calming, the presence of Izzy’s pack soothing despite his confusion. “Not your fault, eh? Poor little f*cker…”

And Izzy’s certain he’d usually have something to say to that, but at the moment all he can do is whine, pressing his head into Feeney’s hand.

“All done?” Feeney says, looking over at Roach. Roach pulls a face, still unhappy, though his anger doesn’t seem to be aimed at Izzy yet.

“Just one more thing,” Roach says, reaching into his apron pocket. “I made you a salve—I’m going to put a little on the places where you are… torn. It will help with the pain, but it will sting at first. I need you to hold still, okay?”

Izzy shudders, even as he nods. He turns his eyes up to Feeney, seeking reassurance as he waits for pain—this part, at least, is familiar enough. The salve feels cold at first, almost too cold on the fire-hot, swollen flesh of his c*nt and ass. He whimpers as the cold turns to a tingle, and then an icy burn, and he shoves down the urge to snap his legs shut, not allowed not allowed not allowed—

“Hey, hey, little man, it’s alright, it’s done, you can move, I’m sorry…”

Izzy barely understands the words, but he obeys anyway, legs snapping together as he curls onto his side. A few tears roll down his cheeks, but the pain has already subsided, leaving nothing but a pleasant numbness where that sharp, terrifying pain had lived before.

“There you go,” Feeney says, smiling at Izzy, then at Roach. “Smell that? Little f*cker’s feeling better. Still feels like sh*t, but… better.”

Roach moves away from the bedside first. Izzy nearly reaches out for him, knows that’s not allowed either. Feeney strokes his hair for a moment longer, then stands. Izzy forces himself to breathe slowly, to swallow the terror rising in his throat. He doesn’t want to be left here alone.

John looks down at him again, frowning, and Izzy pulls his knees in tight to his chest.

“Where’s his nest?”

“Hm?” Roach sounds distracted. Izzy can hear him talking to someone, but he doesn’t know who, and they’re not close enough for him to catch their scent.

“His nest—like, there’s a couple of things from the hold, but he needs a proper nest.”

Not allowed, not allowed echoes in Izzy’s head. He says nothing, though. Maybe it’s not breaking the rules if someone else makes him a nest. Don’t pass the buck, little bird, you know I don’t like tattletales… Izzy squeezes his eyes shut, terror blanking his mind for a moment.

When he opens his eyes again, Feeney and Roach have gone. Stede stands close to the door, looking back at Izzy with a strange, unreadable expression. And there, arms crossed, face shadowed by a curtain of hair, scent too thick, anger twisting it to a familiar, terrible bitterness, stands Ed.

*

Stede stares at the door, listening to Roach and Wee John’s footsteps recede. He wants to turn the lock again, but somehow it feels like it might be pushing his luck, given the general vibe at the moment. A shiver runs through him and he suppresses the urge to giggle hysterically. Right now, protecting Ed has to come first. He’ll have time later to… to think about everything he’s seen, to figure out what he needs to do about… about all that. For now…

Stede spins abruptly, fixing a smile on his face. It feels a little manic even to him.

“Well!” he says, far too loudly. “I think that went rather well!”

Ed doesn’t look at him, gaze fixed on Izzy, unblinking. Stede clears his throat. Protecting Ed means protecting Izzy. Though exactly how he’s supposed to protect an injured omega from his alpha when even Stede can smell his rut starting… well, he’ll call it a work in progress.

Ed stalks across the room, eyes never leaving Izzy. Izzy, still curled on his side, whines quietly, tilting his head to expose his scent gland.

“Now, Ed…” Stede begins, hands flapping gently. Ed shows no sign of hearing him as he reaches down and grabs a fistful of Izzy’s hair. He twists hard as Izzy whimpers, pulling his head back to further expose his throat, ligaments standing out starkly under skin still littered with finger-sized bruises, red and purple and black over sickly yellow and green. Ed bends over him, sucking in a breath. He snuffles at Izzy’s hair, growl building louder, then presses his face to his neck, moving across it like he’s searching for something. Izzy doesn’t move, breath shallow and quick as he stares at the ceiling over the bed.

“You smell like them…”

Stede takes another step forward, hands flapping more urgently now.

“Edward!” he says, to no better effect than before. Izzy drops his gaze again, staring at the sheets as Ed stands, looming over him.

“They’re pack,” he says softly, voice shaking. The air in the cabin goes cold. Stede shudders as the sudden shift in the atmosphere strikes even him.

“Pack, eh?”

If Stede weren’t looking right at him, he’d swear that wasn’t Ed’s voice. Izzy just whines, letting Ed pull his head back at what must be a painful angle for him.

“We’re f*ckin’ pirates, Iz, we don’t have pack.”

He sneers the word, face twisted in contempt. Izzy doesn’t answer, jaw set in a way Stede associates with arguments over raid strategy and restocks. That makes it worse, somehow. The undeniable evidence that that Izzy and this one really are the same man. Ed snarls, shaking Izzy by the hair—other than the high, quiet whine of a distressed omega, Izzy doesn’t respond.

“I’ll f*cking show you pack,” Ed mutters, fumbling with the fall front of his leathers with one hand even as the other holds Izzy tight.

“Ed, for god’s sake,” Stede says, stumbling forward. He gets no further than that as Ed pulls out his half-hard co*ck, gripping it firmly, and then lets loose a spray of urine onto Izzy’s face. Izzy still doesn’t struggle, though he whimpers, face twisting in misery, eyes and lips shut tight. Ed groans, breathing hard as he pisses on his first mate, stream interrupted intermittently as his co*ck hardens further and he has to concentrate to mark his omega.

He directs his stream at Izzy’s chest, then his belly. Finally, he lets go of Izzy’s hair, grabbing his left thigh, forcing his legs apart.

“You let him touch your f*cking c*nt…” he mutters, staring at it, and then he aims his co*ck directly between Izzy’s legs, and, with a grunt, forces out another stream of piss, spattering over the lips of Izzy’s c*nt, shining droplets gathering in his pubic hair as it splashes up over his little co*ck. Stede can’t help but notice the way his co*ck twitches, beginning to firm under the hot cascade of Ed’s piss, but he supposes that any stimulation at all might do that to an omega in heat. It’s the most attention he’s seen Ed pay Izzy’s co*ck thus far, and he’s not at all sure it’s deliberate.

Finally, Ed’s stream peters out, the last few spurts hitting Izzy’s inner thighs, rolling down in rivulets. He steps back, panting, and Izzy curls up again, eyes down, lower lip jutting as he sniffles quietly.

“Edward!” Stede squawks, indignant. Ed jumps, looking up as though he’d forgotten Stede was there at all.

“What?” Ed asks, eyes darting like he’s a nervous schoolboy and not a fully grown alpha, a pirate legend who just… just…

“What on earth was all that?” Stede demands. Ed glances down at Izzy, frowning like he doesn’t quite understand the question.

“He smelled like them!” he says, defensive. Stede stares at him as though he’s just sprouted an extra head.

“And so you peed on him?” he says, incredulous. Ed folds his arms, pouting. Stede waits for a response. The silence drags out like toffee, thinner and thinner. Stede sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “We’ll have to change the bloody sheets now.”

Ed’s eyes widen as though he hadn’t thought of that. Stede supposes he probably wasn’t thinking much at all when he decided to… to urinate on his omega. And now…

“Alright, you handle the bloody sheets, I’ll get him in the bath…”

Ed opens his mouth to protest, back stiffening, the idea of even Stede laying a hand on Izzy apparently enough to trigger some bloody alpha instinct.

“Look, Stede, mate,” he starts. Stede raises a hand, cutting him off.

“Bup, bup, bup,” he says, nose tilting up. “You’re the one who pissed on the sheets, so now you’re the one who has to handle the pissy sheets! I’ll handle the, uh, pissy first mate…”

Izzy gives an irritated huff at that. He peeks up from beneath his own arm, eyes still red from crying—and, Stede reflects, very possibly from piss, that can’t be good for the eyeballs… and Izzy is glaring at him, annoyed. Stede’s heart jumps in his chest. That familiar basilisk glare from one Israel Basilica Hands might be the best thing he’s seen all day.

*

Ed grimaces as he pulls the sodden bedding into an awkward ball in the centre of the mattress. The mattress itself is… not untouched. He wonders if Stede will notice, then grimaces. Of course Stede will notice. His mate may be a beta, but he’s not f*cking nose-dead. f*ck.

Ed dumps the sheets into the laundry hamper, feeling a bit smug as he does it. He didn’t even have to ask Stede where it was, though he usually just lets his clothes fall where they may—Stede trails along behind him every evening, complaining good naturedly as he picks up Ed’s clothing and deposits it in the hamper. Back on the Queen Anne, Izzy handled that sh*t, though with a lot less indulgent tutting and a lot more swearing. Ed growls quietly as he thinks of Izzy. He grabs a clean towel and scrubs at the mattress with it, not sure he’s making much progress. Maybe the towel should be wet? Izzy’s always dealt with this sh*t, too.

Ed grinds his teeth together, the familiar itch in his molars telling him to bite… well, it doesn’t help that he can still smell Izzy’s f*cking heat, even through the thick veil of his own musk. Hornigold always said that urge would go away, that by the time he was old enough to captain a ship, he’d have no desire at all to bond with the omegas he kept for his own use. It was a sign of an immature alpha, he said, one that hasn’t come into his full power yet…

Well. Ed’s been the terror of the Caribbean for more than twenty years now, and captain of his own vessel for almost thirty. So when the f*ck will he be free of these stupid f*cking urges? Your body knows what to do, Hornigold told him… but that’s not quite right, is it? Because Ed’s body still wants to f*cking claim Izzy, to lock his teeth in Izzy’s throat and mark him for all to see. It wants to touch him, all the f*cking time, wants to lick and suck and bite and kiss and do all the things an alpha can’t ever afford to do with a f*cking omega.

Give them an inch and they’ll take a mile.

Ed shouts suddenly, throwing the towel down on the stained mattress. f*ck it. He’ll buy them a new one the next time they make port. If the f*cking crew let him live that long.

He tosses the soiled towel into the hamper with the sheets and, he realises, almost all of Izzy’s pathetic collection of nesting materials. Heat rises up the back of his neck again, jaw flexing as he grinds his teeth again. What the f*ck was Izzy doing with a f*cking nest anyway? He never f*cking needed one before. Always said it was f*cking pathetic bullsh*t for the kind of frilly omega c*nts that useless, rich alpha pricks kept as pets. And now it turns out he was f*cking lying the whole time? That he wants all that sh*t, the soft f*cking fabrics, the stupid courtship gifts, some soft-headed idiot kissing his f*cking hand and simpering at him. Ed snarls, kicking the hamper.

“f*ck!” he shouts as he catches his toe on a sharp bit of wicker. What the f*ck is taking Stede so f*cking long anyway? A bucket with a bit of sea water, a couple of washcloths, and done. Not like Izzy would take anything fancier than that anyway. Ed’s eyes slide to the hamper, the wet sheets and ruined nest materials. If Izzy’s been lying about wanting a nest, what else is he lying about?

Growling and tugging at his own hair, Ed starts to pace.

*

Izzy shivers in the corner farthest from Stede as he fills the claw footed tub. He’d been planning to have a bath himself today, maybe invite Ed to join him, a luxurious soak after Ed’s rut. It had seemed so stressful for him. He’d been tense and quiet all evening. Stede shivers, taking the large brass kettle from the hook over the little fire where it’s been waiting since before all this, well, kicked off, as it were. The water steams and spits as it hits the metal of the tub. Izzy presses himself into the corner even tighter, trying to make himself small.

Stede adds a bucket of cold water, taking the water from scalding to merely steaming. Izzy relaxes incrementally, and Stede finds he would greatly prefer not to think about what that implies. He adds a touch more cold water—Izzy’s skin already felt overheated as Stede carried him to the bathroom, and this bath is meant to make him feel better, not worse. And god, he does look miserable, hair wet with piss as well as sweat, flopping dejectedly across his forehead. The scent of alpha musk is thick in the small space. Stede can feel it in the back of his throat. He can’t imagine what it’s like for an omega who’s just been drenched in it.

He can’t help but notice that Izzy’s little co*ck is still hard. Not that he’s looking! He’s being a perfect gentleman, he’s sure! Well, a pretty good gentleman at least. Perhaps an alright gentleman if he’s honest with himself.

Stede glances at Izzy again, then stands in front of the scented oils, dithering.

“Izzy,” he says, picking up one bottle after another and sniffing them. Perhaps not lavender. That’s become something of a signature for Ed, and he can’t help feeling like Izzy deserves something for himself. Oh, speaking of! “What’s your favourite scent profile?”

Izzy looks up at him, familiar sneer curling his lip, though Stede notices his teeth are still chattering.

“Favourite what?” he says, with rather more venom than Stede thinks is warranted. He draws himself up, sniffing disapprovingly, then coughing a little as he fights a gag—god, that smell is getting stronger as it starts to dry. He clears his throat, tilting his chin up again, pulling the tattered remnants of his dignity around himself.

“Oh, you know, do you like something woodsy? Some citrus, perhaps? I think it would really compliment your natural scent…”

Izzy scoffs.

“Alright, how about not f*cking piss?” He sniffles again, turning his face away. Stede blushes, feeling ridiculous, and furious at feeling ridiculous. God, Izzy really is the most infuriating man he’s ever met, even now, covered in piss and shivering, naked on Stede’s bathroom floor. You’d think Stede could at least manage to get the upper hand in this situation, for god’s sake.

“I’m sure I can handle not urine, Izzy, I just thought it might be nice to give you some options,” he snips, grabbing a little bottle of bergamot scented oil and tipping a few drops into the bath.

“Is there an option where you don’t f*cking talk the whole time?” Izzy sneers back as Stede scoops him up from the floor and lowers him carefully into the tub. The threatening look is undercut by the quiet moan that slips out of him as he sinks into the warm, fragrant water.

“God forbid you show a little gratitude,” Stede mutters, lathering a bit of shampoo between his hands and then dragging his fingers through Izzy’s hair, scrubbing his scalp. Izzy groans quietly, head falling back with a dull metallic thunk. He barely reacts to his head’s collision with the back of the bronze tub, letting his neck roll back and forth as needed as Stede washes his hair. He moans quietly as Stede rubs the thick, creamy soap suds down the back of his head, fingers dipping lower to squeeze at the knotted muscles on either side of his spine.

“G… grateful for what?” Izzy asks, voice breathier than usual as Stede gently scratches fingertips over his scalp. “Your… your f*cking interference?”

Stede tuts, filling a pitcher with warm water and guiding Izzy’s head back, one hand shielding Izzy’s eyes as he rinses his hair.

“Well, without my interference, you might well be dead right now,” he sniffs, warming a little oil between his palms and dragging his fingers through the ends of Izzy’s hair, pushing it back from his forehead. He picks up a washcloth and dips it in the water, scrubbing it over Izzy’s face before he shampoos his beard. Izzy just glares at him, lips shut tight, waiting for Stede to rinse it. Stede smirks.

“See? Isn’t it nice to just sit quietly rather than being a complete asshole all the time?” Izzy’s eyes flash, furious, and Stede feels a bit guilty—he really didn’t mean to bicker with Izzy like this. Somehow the little bastard always brings it out of him. He rinses Izzy’s beard quickly, waiting for the stream of invective he’s sure will follow. Izzy breathes in sharply, and then hesitates. After a moment, he just turns his head away, mouth pressed shut, eyes too bright. Stede’s heart feels as though it’s in his guts. He was rather looking forward to the invective. The silence lingers, heavy in the thick steam still rising from the bath.

“I’m sorry,” Stede blurts, running the cloth over Izzy’s chest, eyes locked on his face. “I didn’t mean that, I just…”

Izzy gasps softly and Stede freezes, hand still on…

Oh.

Well.

That’s not Izzy’s chest, is it?

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” he gasps, pulling his hand from the water so quickly that he slaps himself across the face with the washcloth. He splutters, almost too distracted to notice Izzy’s quiet whine. He stops mid-splutter, clutching the cloth as it drips steadily on the floor. Izzy looks down, cheeks flushed, lashes clumped together from the steam or tears or both. His lips have parted and he pants softly. He clutches the sides of the tub so hard his knuckles are bloodless white.

“Izzy?” Stede says softly. “Did that feel… I mean, well… would you like me to…?”

Izzy shifts, frowning.

“To what?” he says, eyes darting to Stede’s face, then dropping again. Stede blushes. He’s tempted to just let it drop, if Izzy’s so averse to Stede getting him off that he’ll pretend he doesn’t know what he means. He really should spare himself further embarrassment. Instead, he opens his mouth, pulled once again into the trap of clarification.

“I.. I could get you off, if you like,” he says. “It might help, with… you know. With Ed.”

Izzy looks at him again, nose wrinkled in confusion.

“You want to get me off?” he says, as if the words don’t really make sense. “How?”

Stede’s face feels like it’s on fire, and, god, this really feels like a little much, even coming from Izzy.

“Honestly, you could just say no,” he mutters, feeling more out-of-sorts than he would have expected, though Izzy always seems to set him off kilter. “I’m not about to force you…”

He makes to stand, flustered, wondering if he should just give Izzy his privacy.

“Wait!”

Izzy’s eyes are wide, face open in a way Stede’s never seen it. He looks terrified. He looks desperate.

“Please,” he says quietly. “Please, Stede, I don’t know what you mean.”

Stede exhales sharply. Oh. Well. That… that might be worse, actually, and for a startling moment he has to fight the urge to storm out of the bathroom and slap Edward Teach across the face once again. Instead, he takes a steadying breath, kneeling down beside the tub.

“Would you like me to show you?” he asks. Izzy glances away again. Stede watches his chest rise and fall, water droplets sparkling in the thick pelt of hair, nipples pink and puffy and garnished with shining, silver bars. Izzy nods sharply.

*

It’s taking too long. It’s taking too f*cking long and Ed can smell Izzy’s heat, smell the need pouring off him, mixing and blending with the citrus-scented steam pouring out of the bathroom. What the f*ck could be taking so long?

Is Stede trying to steal Izzy from him? Is he f*cking plotting something with the crew, getting Izzy out of the way while one of them assassinates him? Or all of them working together, even.

Ed shakes his head, trying to clear the fog of rage descending on him. Stede hasn’t betrayed him. He’s just giving Izzy a bath. Ed’s changing the sheets, and Stede’s giving Izzy a bath.

Ed looks over at the bed nook, fresh sheets piled messily at the foot of it, another towel sitting over the piss stain in the middle, hopefully sopping some of it up. Ed’s rather proud of that innovation. But, well, he can hardly make the bed when it’s not dry. He’s done all he can, really.

He’ll just go see if Stede needs some help.

Izzy can be a real handful.

*

Izzy watches Stede as he takes a fresh washcloth and dips it in the water. He raises it to Izzy’s neck, stroking his scent gland with warm, fragrant water, then dragging it down over his collarbone. Izzy still doesn’t know what the f*ck he’s going to do. He couldn’t help the sound he made when Stede touched his co*ck. No matter how many times Hornigold whipped him for it, no matter how many times he’d stomped on the useless thing, threatened to cut it off, the feeling that shoots through him when something touches it during his heats is f*cking electric. He tried touching it himself, once, a f*cking lifetime ago. Hornigold caught him, of course. It’s not as though he had his own room back then. He really did think Hornigold would cut it off that time.

He remembers sobbing, begging, as Hornigold dragged him up onto the deck.

“Our little whor*’s not getting enough attention, lads! He’s starting to think he’s more than just a hole for any alpha I choose. Come prove him wrong.”

Hornigold grabbed him by the wrists, forcing him to hold his hands out, palms up.

“Please, sir, I’m sorry, I won’t do it again, I’m sorry,” he sobbed, terrified as one of the crew handed the captain a nasty looking switch.

“Oh, little bird,” Hornigold said, grabbing Izzy by the jaw, fingers digging in until Izzy was afraid he’d simply rip it free and leave him to bleed out on the deck. “You haven’t even begun to be sorry yet.”

Hornigold switched his hands as two big alphas carried a breeding bench out from the bowels of the ship. Izzy screamed, hands bleeding, as they strapped him to it. Legs splayed, face tilted up, one of them pushed a ring between his teeth, pulling the straps viciously tight, and then a co*ck forced its way past his lips and down his throat, f*cking his face while he gagged and moaned.

“Can’t have the hole enjoying it too much, now can we?”

The crew shouted their agreement, and then Hornigold’s switch cut a line of fire across Izzy’s c*nt. The next strike caught his co*ck and Izzy screamed around the prick in his throat. He doesn’t know how long it went on like that, one alpha pulling out to come on his face, to piss on him, only to be replaced by another as Hornigold whipped his co*ck, his c*nt, his tender, furled hole. He sobbed, drool mixing with come and bile as he choked on more co*cks than he could count.

“Suppose that’ll do!” Hornigold’s voice was punctuated by a sharp slap to the raw flesh of his ass, and then a co*ck was forcing its way into his c*nt, another in his ass as the crew hooted and hollered. They pounded into him, occasionally stopping to pinch and slap at his co*ck, laughing as he jerked in his holds, gagging and choking on co*ck, or spluttering as someone pissed down his throat.

Hornigold left him there for the rest of his heat, occasionally sending someone with a glass of barely potable water or a loose scrap of bread, when his mouth wasn’t otherwise occupied. When he’d finally cut Izzy loose, he’d fallen to the deck in a heap. He’d thought, honestly, that he was dying, that no one could feel this much pain and survive. He barely understood Hornigold’s words when he gripped him by the hair and pressed his lips to his ear.

“You are just a hole, little bird. My hole. If I catch you with your hands on your little prick again, I’ll cut them off. Holes don’t need hands, or co*cks for that matter. Remember that.”

Izzy never touched himself again. Even with his own private room on the Queen Anne, and later on the Revenge, it always felt like too much of a risk. And what would he even get from it? The little shocks of pleasure he feels when Ed brushes against it, or when it grinds into the sheets as his alpha f*cks him through a heat are more than enough. As Stede drags the cloth across his chest, stroking one nipple, then the other until Izzy hisses, arching into his touch, he begins to reconsider that position. Stede strokes his belly, free hand coming up to stroke Izzy’s cheek.

“That’s good, Izzy,” he says. “You’re doing so well. Such a good omega…”

Izzy whines, co*ck jumping between his legs, c*nt clenching.

“There we are…” Stede’s hand reaches down, down towards his c*nt and Izzy whines, uncertain, not wanting Stede’s fingers inside him now. “Shh…”

Stede shushes him, rubbing a thumb over his cheekbone as he wraps the soft cloth around Izzy’s aching prick. Izzy’s mouth falls open, a guttural sound emerging from his chest.

“Oh, good, Izzy, that’s perfect…”

Izzy writhes, hips working desperately, pushing up into the gentle warmth. The sparks of pleasure blend together, rising and building in an inferno, his belly clenching like he’s going to piss but, god, it feels so f*cking good, he can’t find the will to tell Bonnet he has to stop, he can’t, he’s going to…

Izzy shouts, back arching, water sloshing over the sides of the tub as pleasure rolls over him in maddening waves. Stede strokes him through it, wringing every drop of pleasure from his long neglected co*ck until Izzy squirms with discomfort, whimpering quietly. Stede releases his co*ck, stroking over his trembling thighs, his belly as Izzy gasps and moans, aftershocks still running through him at unpredictable intervals. He hardly even notices the door opening. The warmth in his belly turns to ice as he looks up at Ed, silhouetted in the doorway.

“So. Giving him a f*cking bath, eh?”

Chapter 5

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

There’s an unfamiliar note in Izzy’s scent. Ed catches it as he moves towards the bathroom door. It’s sweet and soft, like wildflowers clinging to the rocks above a storm tossed sea. Ed opens his mouth, wanting more of it. It flows into him like nectar, soothing the jagged edges of the hollow pit inside him. He stumbles closer, co*ck hard again, and he wants to slide into the wet heat of Izzy’s body, wants to lick this scent from his neck, his tit*, his c*nt, fill himself up with it…

He can hear Stede’s voice in the room, low, almost tender and he stops, listening.

“That’s perfect, Izzy, you’re doing so well for me…”

The sick, clutching feeling of jealousy cuts through the haze of Izzy’s scent. He hears Izzy moan, quiet at first, then louder, as Stede whispers praise. Izzy’s sure as sh*t never made those sounds for Ed, never sounded so f*cking raw, alive with rising pleasure… like a lover. Izzy’s not like that, he doesn’t need all that, doesn’t even f*cking want it, or maybe that’s another lie, maybe he just never wanted it from Ed, just like he never wanted his bond mark, or to carry his pups. And now he thinks he can steal Ed’s mate?

Ed shoves the door open in time to watch as Izzy shouts, head thrown back, the long column of his neck shining under the soft lamplight as he writhes in ecstasy, arching up into Stede’s hand. Stede keeps whispering to him, sweet little endearments, things he might just as easily have said to Ed. And then Izzy’s eyes are on him, and there it is, the flash of fear in his eyes, the sharp, almost acrid smell of distress washing away the sweet scent of flowers in rain.

“So this is giving him a bath, eh?”

Stede stands as Ed stalks into the room, stepping between him and Izzy, hands raised, eyes wide, alarmed.

“Edward, listen to me,” he says, as if there’s anything he could f*cking say that might make up for this… this f*cking betrayal. Ed barely glances at him, eyes fixed on Izzy, lying in that f*cking tub like a f*cking courtesan. Izzy stares back, frozen, a rabbit waiting for the bite of a hawk’s talons.

“Edward!” Stede exclaims, and he has the sheer f*cking shameless gall to sound indignant as he grabs Ed by the arms, trying to push him back. It takes no thought and less effort to simply throw him aside. There’s a crash as he collides with a shelf full of essential oils, a grunt of pain, but Ed’s already forgotten him, attention fixed on Izzy. The crash pulls Izzy from his paralysis and he flails, struggling to pull himself out of the bath. Ed doesn’t know where the f*ck he thinks he’s going with one f*cking leg. Izzy manages to pull himself out of the tub, hitting the floor with a dull thud and a quiet cry of pain. He rolls onto his stomach, trying to drag himself away, and then Ed’s on top of him.

“Where the f*ck do you think you’re going?” he snarls, flipping Izzy onto his back. Izzy… Izzy has the f*cking audacity to growl at him, shoving his hands away and trying again to scramble out from under him. Ed snarls again, slapping him hard enough that his head smacks into the floor. Izzy gasps, disoriented, then shouts as Ed’s hands close around his throat. The scent of the shattered bottles of Stede’s essential oils fills the space, overwhelming and infuriating, and Ed starts to squeeze. Izzy wraps his hands around Ed’s wrists, shoving at them uselessly as his eyes start to bulge and then, without warning, reaches up, shoving and clawing at Ed’s face. Ed yells in pain as Izzy’s nails drag across his cheek, dangerously close to his eye. He rears back and Izzy chokes, trying yet again to pull himself free. Ed’s blood pounds in his ears, hot rivulets pouring down from the scratches in his cheek, rage so intense he feels as though he can’t breathe. A smashed mirror lies nearby and he grabs a long, wicked looking shard, barely even noticing the way it cuts into the palm of his hand. He grabs Izzy’s wrists, pinning them to the floor, and grins at him, the feel of it feral, furious.

“Old Horny always said he was gonna cut your little co*ck off,” he says. Izzy’s eyes are wide, tears spilling down his cheeks as he struggles. Ed holds him down effortlessly, dragging the glass shard down his belly, watching beads of blood rise in its wake. “Starting to think he had the right idea…”

Izzy gasps, voice thick as he starts to babble some f*cking nonsense, “Ed, Eddie, please, please, stop, Ed, you’ll kill me, Eddie…” He’s f*cking hysterical, Ed thinks, looking at Izzy’s co*ck with a detached, almost clinical interest. Should probably just take it off at the root.

“Don’t make me do this, Ed.”

The sharp bite of steel at his throat stops Ed short. Stede’s hand wraps in his hair, pulling his head back, exposing his jugular. Ed hisses, glass shard falling from his hand and shattering on the floor. Izzy scrambles back as Stede pulls Ed to his feet, pushing himself into a corner and curling up, sobbing. See? Ed thinks. f*cking hysterical. Stede walks him backwards out of the bathroom.

“You… you f*cking bastard,” Ed mutters. His own mate, betraying him for a f*cking omega. Ed wonders how long it’s been going on. They must have been laughing at him, the two of them, sneaking around for weeks, or maybe months. Maybe the whole crew is in on it. Maybe Izzy’s been planning this all along, pulling the strings, manipulative omega bitch, using his c*nt to get what he f*cking wants…

Stede shoves him into a chair, wrapping a rope around him before he knows what’s happening. He binds him to the chair quickly, efficiently, the knots well-tied, rope too thick to break. Of course. Izzy’s been giving him knot-tying lessons for weeks. They must have f*cking planned this, the two of them…

“Oh, shut up, Edward!” Stede looks down at him, hands on his hips. “No one is plotting against you! You’re doing more than enough to ruin your own bloody life!”

Ed opens his mouth to shout, to curse, to demand retribution. His voice cuts off with a muffled grunt as Stede shoves a handkerchief into his mouth, tying it into place with another cord between his teeth, digging painfully into the scratches on his cheek. He glares at Stede, trying to put all the force of his righteousness behind the look. Stede doesn’t even have the grace to look guilty. In fact, he looks pretty f*cking righteous himself.

“Well,” he says, hands on his hips, “I suppose that’s you sorted, for now. I’m going to go look after Izzy, and then… well, then we’ll see if we can figure out some way to convince the crew not to bloody kill you, you nut!”

Stede tosses his head as he turns, nose in the air, and swans back to the bathroom, leaving Ed to struggle and shout, alone.

*

Izzy pushes himself back as Stede walks Ed out of the room. His head spins, vision blurring as he tries to catch his breath. The line that Ed cut down his belly stings, throbbing in time with his pounding pulse. He tucks himself into a ball, head on his one good knee as he tries to slow his breathing. He can feel the heat fever rolling over him again, wrong, sickening, that f*cking need, need, need tangled up with pain and confusion and sheer f*cking terror.

He wants his alpha.

He needs his alpha.

He thinks his alpha is going to f*cking kill him.

A high whine creeps up the back of his throat, inexorable. He needs to get out of here, to hide, to run away… he needs to throw himself on his alpha’s mercy, beg his forgiveness, beg for his f*cking knot.

Little shivers run through him, freezing then boiling, then freezing again, gooseflesh pebbling his skin despite the steam still rising from the bath.

Ed’s going to come back for him. The thought makes him shudder. He squeezes his eyes shut, hiding his face, and waits. It doesn’t take long. He hears glass crunch underfoot as someone steps back into the room. As Ed steps back into the room. He can’t smell him, can’t smell anything over the stench of the essential oils mingling on the floor, eucalyptus blending with lavender and mint and cedar and orange blossom and f*cking tea tree and god knows what else, but it must be Ed. Stede managed to get the jump on him, but there’s no way he could keep the upper hand long enough to… to… Izzy doesn’t even know what the f*ck Stede could do. This is how things are. All told, he’s happier to die by Edward’s hand than by Hornigold’s. He’s already lived longer than he ever expected to.

A hand brushes his shoulder and he yelps, cringing away from the touch.

“Izzy?”

He opens his eyes, blinking them at least halfway into focus. Stede crouches next to him, one hand half extended. The lantern light behind him casts his face into shadow, hair shimmering like a halo. Izzy can see a cut on his cheek. Must have happened when Ed threw him into that f*cking shelf. Frankly, Izzy’s impressed that he’s on his feet at all, let alone that he was able to…

“Ed?” he asks, eyes wide. He knows his mate isn’t dead—at this point, he doesn’t think he’d survive the agony of their bond snapping. He can smell the off note in his own heat, growing again, stronger and stronger, almost enough to overpower the f*cking oils.

“Ed’s… Ed’s going to have a bit of a rest for a little while. He’s, um, he’s sitting down. In a comfortable chair.”

Izzy squints, trying to bring Stede properly into focus. What the f*ck is this idiot on about?

“f*ck are you on about, you idiot?” he asks. Stede pulls a face, the irritated look so familiar that Izzy almost laughs.

“Ed is… currently tied to a very comfortable chair,” he clarifies, with a prim little sniff. “I improvised with the tools at my disposal. Now…”

He reaches out again, lifting Izzy into his arms with insultingly little effort. The posh bastard’s strong for a beta.

“Let’s get you back to bed, shall we? I suspect we’ll have visitors very shortly…”

*

Getting Izzy back into bed is more of a production than Stede expects. For one thing, Ed never finished putting the bloody sheets on. Stede clicks his tongue at the sight of the stain hidden beneath the towel.

“We’ll have to buy a whole new mattress,” he says, looking over at Ed reproachfully. Ed, still gagged, just glares at him, before twisting his head this way and that, trying to catch a glimpse of Izzy, currently making himself as small as possible on the divan. Stede makes the bed as quickly as he can, replacing the soiled towel with a fresh one. The stain’s mostly dried by now, and, well…

“That’ll have to do.”

He gathers Izzy from the divan, tucking him carefully under the crisp, fresh cotton sheets. Ed’s scent is thick here, inescapable. Izzy whines, rubbing his legs together, little co*ck hardening again. His face is flushed. Even Stede can tell the hint of rot beneath his heat is back. Damn it, Ed.

A knock on the door startles him—for one thing, he’s surprised it took them this long, and for another, he wasn’t expecting them to knock. He opens the door cautiously. A few feet away, Wee John has Jim pinned on the floor of the hall, Olu and Archie both apparently trying to talk them down as they snarl and thrash.

“Let me up! I’m gonna f*cking kill him!”

“Jim, that’ll kill Izzy, too…” Olu’s voice is soothing, his hand steady as he pushes the hair out of their face. They relax, just a touch.

“Yeah, and, I mean, so far as we know, it’s just the one rape, right? That’s really not bad by captain standards, in my experience at least!”

Archie’s cheerful contribution sets off another wave of thrashing and cursing from Jim. Olu and Wee John exchange an exasperated look, omega solidarity strong between them.

“Thanks, Arch,” Olu mutters, rolling his eyes. “But maybe you could be more, just, like, support. Silent support.”

Archie smiles, content as always.

“Oh, yeah! Sure! You got it!” they say, and then mime turning a lock in their mouth. They stand back, rocking back and forth on their heels, humming. Olu sighs, and turns back to Jim, leaning down close as he tries to calm them.

In the doorway, Roach slumps elegantly, one eyebrow raised, lit cigarette dangling from his hand.

“So,” he says, almost casually. “What the f*ck?”

“Ah,” Stede responds, smile tight, shoulders pushing up around his ears as he tries to assume a captainly attitude. “Well. We had a… an incident. Or two.”

Roach pushes past, heading straight for Izzy. After another minute or so of Olu’s soothing whisper, Jim’s breathing slows again and Wee John slowly lets them up, dusting them off as they straighten their shirt with a huff. A growl rises in their throat again as they catch Izzy’s scent, distress and decay at the forefront. Olu steps in close, hands on their hips, murmuring as he scents them. Stede can’t quite catch what he’s saying, but he sees the way Jim’s eyes close, the way their body tilts towards their omega, tension bleeding out of them.

“What the f*ck happened here?”

Stede hurries over to Roach and Izzy. Izzy pants, eyes glazed, mouth open as his fever rises. Roach looks at Stede accusingly, pointing to the long, jagged scratch running from Izzy’s chest down his belly, all the way to the root of his co*ck. Stede winces. It looks inflamed.

“Ah,” he says, “yes. That was, uh, one of the incidents. Tensions were running a little high…”

Roach raises his eyebrows, waiting for a more detailed explanation. Stede shifts awkwardly, cheeks flaming hot. In the corner, Ed shouts through his gag. Roach’s eyebrows climb higher, joined by a smile this time.

“Captain!” he says, looking at Stede appraisingly. “I am impressed…”

Ed shouts again, yanking at the ropes tying him to the chair. Jim, still closely flanked by Olu, approaches him slowly, an answering growl rising in their throat as Ed starts to snarl. Izzy whimpers quietly, thighs rubbing together as he writhes. He reaches down towards his own prick, hard and leaking on his belly, then yanks his hand away, unfocused eyes darting to Roach and Stede.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m not… I won’t…” he breaks off with a desperate moan, the scent of his distress spiking as his hips work helplessly, hands gripping the sheets, knuckles white as he sobs. “Alpha, alpha, please, please, I’ll be good, please…”

“f*ck,” Roach says, looking down at Izzy. He turns his attention back to Stede. “I can treat the cut easily enough, but if he doesn’t get his alpha’s knot soon, and often, nothing I do will make a difference.”

Archie peers around Roach’s shoulder, curious. Her eyes widen as she takes in Izzy’s condition.

“Oh yeah, he’s a f*ckin’ goner if he doesn’t get f*cked soon,” she says, blunt as always. On the other side of the room, Jim’s growl kicks up a notch and Olu buries his face in his hands, exasperated. Archie folds her arms, tilting her head to one side as she thinks. “Could we cut his dick off and just, like, pop it in there?”

Ed’s growls take on a slightly panicked note as Jim grins down at him.

“I love the way you think, amor,” they say to Archie, eyes never leaving Ed’s face. Roach sighs, shaking his head regretfully.

“That is not the way it works, unfortunately,” he says. Wee John, standing in the doorway, wrinkles his nose.

“Sounds kind of nasty, too,” he adds. “For Iz, I mean.”

Archie shrugs, unbothered, and wanders away from the bed, picking up knick knacks from tables and shelves, examining them and then setting them back down at random. She picks up a gold letter opener from Stede’s desk, making a pleased little sound as she tests the point on her finger. She tucks it into her belt, and continues her exploration.

“Well, we have to do something,” Jim says. Their hands flex as they look down at Ed, just barely restrained by Olu’s gentle hold on their arms. “Or Izzy’ll be dead before I get a chance to cut this pendejo’s dick off for him.”

Stede chuckles nervously, though he’s almost certain they’re not joking. His mind races, trying to find a way out that doesn’t end with Ed and Izzy both dead…

“Ah!” he exclaims suddenly. Archie jumps, dropping a porcelain figure of a shepherdess she’d been examining. It hits the floor with a crunch and she carefully pushes it under the desk with her foot, whistling. Stede makes a note to deal with the broken glass later. Quite a lot of broken glass, he reflects, thinking of the state of his toilette. God, what a day. “I… I think I may have a solution, actually. Maybe. I think.”

*

Roach crosses his arms, smiling again.

“I am very impressed, captain,” he says, patting Stede on the shoulder as they survey their work. “I did not know you were a freak!”

Stede blushes, clearing his throat.

“Well, it was… it was actually Edward who suggested we try something a bit more… outré,” he says self-deprecatingly.

Ed, hands bound tightly behind him, face fitted with a muzzle and bit, snarls. Roach tugs at the leash attached to the back of the harness crisscrossing his chest.

“Hey, hey,” he says, as Ed growls again. “None of that!”

Ed growls more quietly, shaking his head as he tries to push the bit out of his mouth. He stops finally and looks up at Stede, eyes wide, whining quietly.

“Right,” Stede says, rubbing his hands together. “I think I can handle it from here.”

*

It takes Olu a few minutes to coax Jim out of the room.

“Come on, Olu, look what happened the last time we left este hijo de puta alone with Izzy…”

“I know, Jim, but I mean, you know how private Izzy is, yeah? Do you really think he’d be okay with us watching this?”

Jim just grunts, frustration making their normally mellow orange blossom scent sharp and vaguely metallic. Finally, though, they let Olu pull them out into the hall, closing the door behind them.

Ed stands stiffly, his shoulders tighter even than the ropes binding him require. He sniffs, trying to affect indifference. Stede smiles at him, encouraging, and he stares up at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact. Stede can’t make him do this. No one can f*cking make him do this. They can tie him up, sure. But no one can make him knot a f*cking omega if he doesn’t want to. He’s an alpha, for f*ck’s sake. Omegas are the ones who can’t choose—they’re the ones who need to be f*cked for days on end, who’ll lay down and spread their legs for any alpha who so much as looks at them. Hell, when they were sailing with Hornigold, Izzy gave it up to the whole crew sometimes.

“Edward!” Stede admonishes. Ed realizes he was growling. Well. Who can blame him? Doesn’t matter anyway. As soon as Stede sees this isn’t going to work, he’ll have to untie Ed and they’ll do this his way. He flexes his jaw, biting down on the leather padded bit in his mouth. It feels satisfying, almost as good as biting down on skin, tasting his omega, f*cking claiming him properly at last…

Not that Ed thinks about those things. Not that he f*cking wants them, that’s for sure. His dick throbs, pressing into the fall front of his trousers and he takes a deep breath, willing it to go down.

“Alright, here we are…”

Ed makes an indignant noise, trying to pull away as Stede opens his fall front, but Stede holds his leash tightly, apparently prepared for this reaction.

“Oh, come now, darling, it’s nothing I haven’t seen before!” And how dare Stede sound so… so f*cking chipper as he does this, as he tries to force Ed to… to…

On the bed, Izzy writhes, moaning. His sweat-soaked hair falls into his face as he tosses and turns.

“Alpha,” he groans, “alpha, please…”

Ed bites down harder on the bit, feeling his heartbeat throbbing in his co*ck. Izzy’s heat still smells off, rancid, and Ed wants to scream, to shout, to f*cking tear anything he can touch apart with his bare hands. He flexes his fingers, testing the ropes for give and finding none. Of f*cking course. Jim double checked them.

“Come on, now,” Stede says, voice overly bright, like he’s encouraging a child or a nervous dog. He tugs at Ed’s leash, urging him towards the bed, but Ed stands fast. He’s not f*cking going anywhere.

Izzy sobs, whining, slick shining between his legs, and at the next tug, Ed finds himself stumbling forward. It doesn’t make any f*cking sense. He’s stronger than Stede. He stares down at Izzy. Izzy blinks his eyes open, unfocused and fever-bright. He frowns, confused.

“Alpha…?” he asks softly, and then, quieter, “Eddie?”

Ed can’t look anywhere but at his omega. Stede gives his shoulder a little push, and he clambers onto the bed awkwardly. Izzy whimpers, the cold, unpleasant note of fear in his scent intensifying. Ed can almost feel it, some part of him quailing even as he snarls—it feels like a betrayal, Izzy’s fear, like a rejection of everything they’ve done together, built together. It makes Ed want to shake him, slap him, f*ck him so hard he can’t walk for a f*cking week…

“Ah, ah, none of that!” Stede tugs sharply on the leash, keeping Ed upright, unable to just pounce on Izzy the way he wants to. Stede strokes his hair, gentling him. “Now, you’re going to play very nicely with Izzy, alright? He’s very sick, and he needs you, Edward.”

Ed whines uncertainly and Stede leans in, pressing a kiss to his temple.

“Come on, there’s a good boy…”

Ed whines again as Stede gives him just enough slack to move closer to Izzy, close enough to touch him, if his hands were free. Behind him, Stede wraps the leash carefully around a thick wooden bedstead, tying it off to hold Ed in place.

“There we are, that’s close enough, I think.”

Izzy whimpers quietly, confused, frightened, and Stede strokes his hair, too.

“It’s alright Izzy, no one’s going to hurt you. Come on, now. Open your legs for your alpha, nice and wide, like a good omega…”

Izzy whines again, tears rolling down his cheeks as he takes his thighs in his hands, spreading his legs as wide as he can. His little co*ck is flushed and hard against his belly, his c*nt glistening, slick oozing from his hole and dripping down the soft, pillowy folds of his c*nt, and Ed doesn’t think he’s ever really looked at any of it before, not like this. God, it’s f*cking pretty.

Stede climbs up onto the bed, and Ed turns his head, snarling at him. His own co*ck bobs between his legs, heavy and aching.

“Oh, Edward, hush!” Stede says dismissively. “You don’t have any hands free—and that’s no one’s fault but your own, you know!—so I’m going to take care of Izzy.”

Ed tilts his head, giving a baffled whine. What the f*ck is Stede on about? Stede just rolls his eyes, shuffling himself into position behind Izzy, pulling him into his lap and wrapping his arms around him, his mouth by Izzy’s ear. The sight makes Ed’s chest ache. He’s not even sure which one he’s jealous of. Not sure of much at the moment, he’d have to admit. He whines again, looking down at the puffy perfection of Izzy’s c*nt. There’s a little blood at the entrance, and that makes him ache, too, uncomfortable. He wants to lean down and lick it up, nuzzle his way along Izzy’s c*nt…

“It’s alright, Edward,” Stede says, “you can go ahead now.”

He shuffles Izzy down the bed just a touch, and now the lips of that perfect c*nt are brushing the head of his dick, heat radiating from the dripping hole, shining, irresistible, and there’s nothing else in Ed’s mind as he thrusts forward into clutching, wet heat.

Beneath him, Izzy gasps, back arching off the bed.

“Oh, beautiful, Izzy,” Stede says. His hands stroke over Izzy’s chest, pinching and tugging at the piercings in his nipples and Izzy moans, pressing up into Stede’s hands even as his hips start to work in time with Ed’s thrusts, and, f*ck, Ed didn’t even know he could do that…

Stede’s hands leave Izzy’s chest, stroking down the line of hair to his belly and Ed wants to ask why, what he’s doing, why he didn’t just keep playing with Izzy’s nipples, it was working, Ed didn’t even know Izzy was sensitive there. The sweet, soft scent of flowers in rain is growing again. Ed makes a desperate sound, knot beginning to swell at the base of his co*ck. Stede’s hands move down Izzy’s belly, Izzy still gasping and whimpering softly, his c*nt gently pulsating around Ed’s co*ck and, f*ck, Ed didn’t know he could do that either.

When Stede’s hand touches Izzy’s co*ck, Ed’s eyes widen. The throbbing is stronger now, pulling at his knot, pulling him further in, and for once he doesn’t even want to yank the knot out and shove it back in like he normally would. Izzy’s c*nt feels so good, so f*cking wet and soft, and all he wants is to push in and in and in, tiny, quick thrusts as his knot swells.

Stede’s stroking Izzy’s prick like it’s a real one, gathering slick on his hands to ease the slide, rolling his hand up and over the head like he does with Ed’s. The f*cking bizarre thing is that Izzy reacts like it’s a real co*ck, too, moaning and clutching at Stede, begging as his hips rock up into Stede’s hands.

Stede kisses Izzy’s ear, the side of his neck, and Izzy tilts his head, giving Stede access. Ed nearly screams at the sight, teeth squeezing the leather bit so hard that he feels the wood in the centre of it crack slightly. He snaps his hips a little harder, a little faster, and then suddenly Izzy screams, wailing as his co*ck pulses in Stede’s hand, spurting onto his belly as Stede strokes him through it.

The pulses in his c*nt pull Ed in deeper, clutching and sucking at his prick, his knot, and he screams, too, the sound strangled and disbelieving as he comes, Izzy’s c*nt milking him dry. He shudders, giving a little sob of his own as the sensation becomes too much, and then finally, the clutching, pulsing rhythm of Izzy’s c*nt eases, softening around him as Ed’s knot locks them together.

Ed slumps forward in his bonds, mouth hanging open, the leash fixed to his harness the only thing keeping him from collapsing on top of Izzy. Instead, he dangles, half suspended and half conscious, buried in his omega’s c*nt, unable to even think about moving.

“Good, darling, that was wonderful,” Stede’s voice just barely penetrates the haze, and he looks up, desperate to be told he’s done well. Stede stares down at Izzy, stroking his cheek with one hand, kissing his hair, his neck, his cheeks. “Such a brave omega…”

Finally he looks up at Ed with a slightly pained smile.

“Well, Edward, I think that was a very good start.”

Ed blinks, eyes blurring as his stomach drops. He looks down at Izzy, boneless and half-asleep with Ed still inside him. Izzy just gazes up at Stede.

*

Izzy shifts in Stede’s arms. He whines nervously as the knot tugs a little with his movement and Stede strokes his hair back from his forehead and glances up at Ed, still half asleep, drooling slightly as he slumps forward, the leash keeping him upright. Stede’s heard rumours about omega c*nts, even encountered the occasional bawdy story in which one sucks an unwary alpha dry when the omega comes to, ah, crisis. All terrible purple prose, and absurdly exaggerated, of course, though from Ed’s reaction perhaps less exaggerated than Stede had thought when he first read them. The fact that Ed’s apparent shock suggests Izzy’s never once “arrived”, as it were, in their many years as a bonded pair is far less surprising than Stede would like. Well, it seems to have had the desired effect, anyway.

“Don’t worry, darling, he’s not going anywhere,” Stede says. Ed groans quietly, still gnawing at the bit between his teeth. Izzy shifts again, brow furrowed as he looks up at Stede—he blinks, trying to bring his eyes into focus.

“Do you need something, Izzy?” Stede asks. The rot in Izzy’s scent has begun to fade again, to his nose at least, replaced by the faint, clean scent he had caught just briefly in the bathroom earlier. Distress is still the dominant note, though, an edge of sharpness almost unidentifiable to most betas. Stede’s never smelt it as strongly as he has from Izzy in the past few hours. He supposes that makes sense under the circ*mstances. But now that he knows what it is… well, he’s not proud to admit that he always thought Izzy just needed to bathe more. He’d hardly be the first pirate to suffer from a nasty case of “B.O.,” Stede reflects.

The thought that the man’s simply been in distress all along is, well, distressing. Izzy whines softly, looking down at Ed, then back up at Stede. He licks his lips, uncertain. Stede bends closer—he doesn’t think Ed has any real idea of what’s happening right now, but he can hardly fault Izzy’s caution.

“Come on, you can tell me,” he says, stroking Izzy’s cheek with his thumb. Izzy’s eyes dart to Ed again.

“It’s… I’m not allowed,” Izzy whispers, voice hoarse. Stede smiles indulgently.

“But isn’t that up to the captain?” he says, teasing. Izzy just frowns, glancing at Ed again. Stede sighs, rolling his eyes.

“I’m captain, too, Izzy, I had the bloody ship built,” he says, exasperated. Izzy looks at him dubiously. Little f*cker. Stede waits.

Izzy draws in a shaky breath, clutching at the velvet leg of Stede’s trousers—thoroughly crushing it, no doubt, and Stede is not thinking about that right now, it’s the farthest thing from his mind, as a matter of fact, and they’re probably all… ji*zzy, anyway. Stede pulls a face, wondering if there’s a really top notch launderer in the Republic, he really doesn’t trust anyone on the crew with his finery…

“Nest,” Izzy gasps, then flinches, looking down towards Ed, eyes wide. Ed seems only a little more lucid, shaking his head gently as he begins to come back to himself, leash and harness still holding most of his weight. Izzy looks back up at Stede, speaking as though someone’s pulling off fingernails to make him talk. “I want… want a nest…”

Stede’s eyes widen, stomach plummeting guiltily. Ed took most of Izzy’s already pitiable collection of nest materials when he stripped the sheets from the bed—they’re probably in the laundry hamper, thoroughly marinated in alpha… eugh. Stede pulls a face just thinking about it. The bed looks positively barren now, nothing but thin cotton sheets—very fine cotton, of course, but hardly enough for their omega’s heat! As a lover of fabrics, Stede is absolutely certain he’s the best possible man for the job. In fact, he’s always thought he would be extremely helpful in building an omega’s nest, should the occasion arise! At the very least, he’s sure he would have thought that if it had occurred to him to think about it at all, and that’s really the same thing, isn’t it? He’ll have to have Lucius make a note of this particular belief of his, and of course how very right he was about it, but in the meantime…

Izzy whines nervously, turning his head to rub his cheek submissively against Stede’s thigh. His distress sharpens as his breathing speeds up, too fast—Stede can see tears starting in his eyes.

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, captain, please,” he says quickly. Well, bollocks.

“No, Izzy, it’s alright, you’re alright, I was just… just thinking about all the lovely things I have to put in the beautiful nest you’re going to build!” he says, in a rather good save if he does think so himself, and he’ll have to have Lucius write that down, too. He’s being quite dashing, he thinks!

Izzy stares up at him again, eyes still shining too bright.

“Nest?” he asks, like he might have misunderstood. Stede strokes his cheek again.

“Yes, darling, we’ll build you a nest just as soon as you’re, uh, free again…”

He gestures vaguely towards Izzy’s c*nt, still locked tight on Ed’s knot. Izzy whimpers, tensing.

“No, no, no, please, not yet, captain, don’t…”

It takes Stede a moment to understand, and then he squawks, horrified. He wraps his arms around Izzy’s shoulders, pulling him tight against his chest.

“No, Izzy, it’s alright, it’s alright, we’re going to wait for Ed’s knot to go down, there’s no rush, I promise,” he babbles as Izzy watches him with terrified, barely focused eyes. He takes a breath. His panic is hardly making Izzy’s life easier at this point, entertaining as his first mate might find it under ordinary circ*mstances. When he speaks again, he’s calmer. Firm, even. “There’s no rush, Izzy. We’ll wait however long it takes—all of us,” he adds, as Izzy again looks to Ed, and even if Stede couldn’t smell his fear, he’d see it clear as day in Izzy’s face. “And then you and I will build you a nest, full of… of pillows and silks and velvets and… well, whatever you like, really…”

Izzy tilts his head, rubbing his cheek against Stede’s thigh again, not panicked this time. It really is terribly sweet and, Stede has to admit as he feels his own co*ck begin to thicken, rather… uh… distracting. He tilts his head back, breathing slow and even and thinking discouraging thoughts—cow pats. His grandmother’s hands, blue veined and age spotted. Um. Getting stabbed. Getting run straight through, penetrated, or penetrating someone else with the tip of his blade, hard, cold metal slicing into hot flesh and… Nope, no, not that one, never mind! Something else, something…

Stede is so absorbed by his search for the least arousing thoughts he can possibly think that he doesn’t even notice as Izzy starts to purr.

Chapter 6

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Ed drifts, barely aware that time is passing. He tries to hold on to his anger, his righteous fury about… about…

Every time he tries to think about it, the soft flexing of his omega’s c*nt around his slowly softening knot, and the sweet, soft scent of pleasure, lull him back to a strange almost-sleep. He can’t hold on to a thought. Can barely hold on to his f*cking name. Well, can’t be that important if he can’t remember, can it?

Still, something nags at him, like a fly buzzing at a windowpane. He opens his mouth, scenting the air. He catches the warm, familiar scent of his mate—Izzy, his mind supplies after barely a moment’s hesitation—but it has a sharp edge, wrong somehow…

Ed whines quietly, and Izzy’s c*nt squeezes again. He slumps forward, not sure why he doesn’t fall, why he’s not lying with his mate, in their nest. That sparks something at the back of his mind, too, a hot flare of anger that doesn’t entirely feel like it belongs to him. He shakes his head gently, trying to clear it. He hears Izzy whine, knows he should do something about that. Protect him? Hit him? It all feels so tangled, anger and pain and pleasure and love and…

Another pulse of Izzy’s c*nt. Ed’s head falls forward and he starts to drool.

*

It takes almost an hour for Ed’s knot to go down—Stede’s not totally sure what the standard timeline is, but that does seem a touch long. Then again, the pheromones Izzy’s putting out are enough to make even Stede feel a touch woozy, his co*ck hard and throbbing in his trousers. The way Izzy keeps nuzzling at him, soft and submissive and affectionate, hasn’t helped either. Not that he’s blaming Izzy! Far from it! It’s hardly Izzy’s fault that Stede apparently can’t cope with the presence of a very naked omega in his bed, thighs splayed wide to make room for Ed’s knot and…

Well, to be fair the circ*mstances are a bit unusual. Perhaps for once no one is to blame. As if on cue, Ed shifts, whining quietly—ah, yes. Well, some blame, perhaps. Stede’s hardly qualified to assign it, let alone figure out what to do about it. He could put it to a vote, he supposes, but he has a sinking feeling that he already knows how that would turn out.

He sighs deeply. What he needs is an ally, and the closest he’s got so far as he can tell is currently nuzzling his leg again, dangerously close to…

“Ah!” he squeaks as Izzy’s cheek brushes his co*ck through his trousers, setting off sparks at the base of Stede’s spine. He does it again—Stede makes a noise indistinguishable from a tea kettle and gently eases himself back, away from Izzy’s questing face. Izzy huffs, looking entirely too disappointed, lip jutting in a soft pout and, god, he can’t possibly know what he’s doing, can he?

Izzy makes a discontented noise, nuzzling at Stede’s shin, the only part of him in reach now. Stede hums nervously. Ed whines again suddenly, and this time Izzy tenses. He yips quietly, clutching at Stede’s pant leg as Ed’s knot finally slips free.

“Oh, darling, are you alright?” Stede asks, taking Izzy’s face in his hands. Izzy looks confused for a moment, then slowly nods, looking down at Ed like he’s trying to solve a rather complicated puzzle. Ed blinks, breathing hard as he slowly starts to regain his lucidity. Stede watches him closely, pulling Izzy up into his lap. Under the circ*mstances, it might be best if Ed stayed a little… well, stoned… for the rest of Izzy’s heat.

Izzy squirms in Stede’s lap, ass grinding down against his trapped co*ck and Stede does his tea kettle impression yet again. Izzy twists to wrap his arms around Stede’s shoulders, nuzzling at his neck. He licks the sensitive spot where a scent gland would be if Stede were an alpha and Stede chokes, then clears his throat urgently. Izzy goes back to the soft nuzzling, and if Stede didn’t know better, he’d think the little sh*t was teasing him.

“Um, Izzy?” he says, not entirely sure where to put his hands, suddenly. “I… well, not that I’m not, uh, enjoying… or, I mean not, not enjoy— god, what am I…? I mean… nest!”

He yelps the word as Izzy’s teeth close over his earlobe. Izzy hesitates, teeth and tongue worrying Stede’s skin absently and very, very distractingly. He pulls back, lips caressing Stede’s ear as he lets go. He looks hesitant, cautiously hopeful.

“Nest?” he asks softly. He tenses a little, turning to look back at Ed. Stede takes Izzy’s chin in his hand, gently but inexorably guiding Izzy’s eyes back to his.

“Yes, Izzy—I told you I’d fetch you some things for your nest when Ed’s knot went down. I’ll only be a minute…”

He moves to slip away, hands on Izzy’s waist as he prepares to shift him off his lap. Izzy stares as Stede, arms still around his shoulders, hands clasped at the nape of his neck. Stede takes deep, even breaths. Izzy’s not entirely himself right now, he reminds himself. He’s… he’s heat-addled and injured and traumatized, and he’s only recently had what Stede unfortunately suspects are the first org*sms of his life, and yes Stede did in fact play a key role in that last development, but that certainly doesn’t mean that Izzy would…

“Mmf!” Stede exclaims, witty as always, as Izzy’s lips catch his. The kiss is almost thoughtful at first, as though Izzy were testing a hypothesis. Stede’s hands tighten on his waist, pulling him closer, and Izzy arches against him, tongue slipping between Stede’s lips. Izzy grinds down on Stede’s prick again, and this time Stede is almost entirely certain it’s deliberate. Izzy moans quietly, finally pulling back to look at Stede. He reaches out and wipes the corner of Stede’s mouth with a thumb, then runs his fingers through Stede’s hair. A touch of mischief sparkles in his eyes as he eases himself back off Stede’s lap to lay on the crisp cotton sheets. He grins as Stede just looks at him, eyes raking hungrily over his tit*, his belly, his small co*ck, hard and flushed above his glistening c*nt.

“Go on, then,” he says, nodding at Stede. Stede stares at him blankly.

“Uh. Yes. Right. Um. What?” Stede asks, feeling as though he’s at least covering all the bases with that question. Izzy’s grin widens, wolfish, and Stede decides he would very much like to see that expression again in the very near future.

“Bring me what I need for my nest, Bonnet,” he says, running a hand over his hip, one eyebrow raised. “God, you don’t half need a lot of direction, do you?”

“Oh!” Stede exclaims, still not entirely sure he’s caught up on the situation at hand. “Yes! Of course! I’ll, um, I’ll be right back!”

He trips slightly as he crawls backwards off the bed, eyes still locked on Izzy. Izzy hides a laugh behind his hand as Stede regains his footing. Ed turns his head a little, growling softly, and Stede rolls his eyes.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, Edward,” he says as he turns towards the auxiliary wardrobe. “Put a bloody sock in it.”

*

Ed comes back to himself slowly. He whines as his co*ck slips free of his mate—Izzy, Izzy, Izzy, his mind whispers almost constantly. He looks down, sees come and slick dripping from Izzy’s c*nt. He wants to f*ck it back in with his fingers, to bend down to bite and lick and suck until Izzy’s ready for him again, he wants wants wants…

His hands are tied behind his back. When did that happen? Seems like the sort of thing he really should be keeping track of. Hard to keep track of anything when everything smells so f*cking good. He shudders, pulling against whatever it is that’s holding him, keeping him from curling up with his mate in his nest. He whines when it doesn’t give. He can’t move, can’t hold his mate, can’t protect him… His head feels heavy, thoughts moving too slow, and that’s not a problem he usually has.

Izzy moves suddenly, sliding away from Ed, f*cking pulled away from him. Ed tenses, pulling against the leash again.

Someone took his mate.

Someone has his mate.

His heart pounds in his ears, his whole body too f*cking lax to properly struggle. He can still smell Izzy. He’s close. His distress smells sharp, unpleasant, but it’s fading, less prominent than it was before, and that feels wrong, too.

The sweet scent of pleasure washes over Ed again. He can taste it, cool and clean, his heartbeat slowing as it floods his senses. He blinks, trying to focus. Izzy’s close. He just has to find him.

Ed blinks again, thinking hard. He just… he has to…

He tips his head back. It flops on his neck, all the connections loose, hard to control, but his head is up now and Izzy…

Izzy’s in someone’s lap. They’re holding his waist tight, holding his f*cking mate, and they’re… they’re f*cking biting him! Ed whines again softly. Izzy moves, grinding against… Ed squints, feeling like he knows this f*cker, this beta, this f*cking interloper who’s not biting, but f*cking kissing his mate. His mate!

He shakes his head, fighting the fog shrouding his thoughts. The bastard’s moving when he opens his eyes again, sliding back off the bed, eyes still on Izzy, now stretched on the bed, languid, at ease. God he’s f*cking beautiful. He lies on a sheet, the bed empty save for that and a couple of pillows and that’s… f*ck, that’s all wrong, too, isn’t it? Ed’s guts twist, uncomfortable, as he tries to think it through. His mate doesn’t have a nest… doesn’t need a nest?

The beta’s too close to Ed, his scent familiar. Ed knows him… Steve? That’s not quite right. And it doesn’t f*cking matter, anyway, he’s been touching Ed’s f*cking mate, holding him, kissing him, what f*cking right does he have…?

“Oh, put a sock in it, Ed, for heaven’s sake!”

Ed’s growl cuts off abruptly as… Stede… that’s it, that’s Stede!… turns and walks away, leaving Ed and Izzy alone in a bed that smells of all three of them.

Izzy glances at Ed, then away just as quickly, the languid lines of his body turning tense as soon as Stede's out of sight. He curls into himself, one hand plucking at the sheet below him. He looks small. Vulnerable.

Ed doesn't know what to do with the feelings twisting in his belly, tangled and contradictory. He wants to shout at his mate, tell him to f*cking untie him, ask where his f*cking loyalty is—swore an oath, some part of him recalls, dredging up the knowledge from somewhere as his thoughts slowly coalesce, as he begins to become himself again. He wants to grab Izzy and carry him out of this room, take him someplace they can be alone, safe, together. He wants to pin him down and scent him, kiss him, f*ck him, tear him to f*cking pieces and he can't even tell one urge from another. It's f*cking terrifying.

He twists his wrists behind him, still finding no give in the ropes, then rolls his shoulders, his neck, trying to relieve some of the tension that's built up there. Squeezing his eyes shut, he huffs, feeling a headache building at the back of his neck. When he opens his eyes, Izzy's looking at him, face unreadable. Ed grinds his teeth into the bit, feeling how the wood has splintered inside the thick leather. He can probably chew through it, so long as he doesn't mind a few splinters in his tongue.

Izzy moves, slow and cautious, pushing himself up on… on all threes, and Ed really doesn't want to think about that too hard, about the smell of gunpowder and the rain on his face and blood on the deck…

Izzy crawls towards him, eyes averted. Ed goes still. His stomach flutters, uncertain. Izzy's a more than capable killer. In this strange, liminal space, Ed can admit that Izzy would likely beat him in a fair fight. And this… this isn't exactly a fair fight. A f*cking child could kill him now. Hell, Stede could kill him now. He feels his heart in his throat, the rhythm of it jagged, staccato. He growls quietly, more fear in it than aggression. In the back of his mind, a small part of him whispers do it, come on, end it, do it Iz, just f*cking do it…

Izzy hesitates. He's so f*cking close that even with the constraint of the leash, even with his hands behind his back, Ed could simply lean forward and touch him, lean against him, at least. Ed doesn't move. The seconds tick by, neither of them breathing. And then, eyes still down, Izzy pushes into Ed's space. Ed holds his breath, his mind stuttering to a halt. Izzy raises his hands tentatively, resting them on Ed's hips, just below his waist. The touch feels unfamiliar. Ed's vision blurs, eyes hot with tears.

Izzy shuffles awkwardly, bending his right leg beneath him, the remnant of the left stretched out, not quite touching Ed's knee where it rests on the mattress. He leans in, pressing his face to Ed's belly, and inhales. He rests his cheek there for a moment, eyes closed, throat working. He never could keep a damn thing off his f*cking face. Grief and joy and rage and tenderness dance over his furrowed brow, lips parted as he breathes in the scent of his mate. Ed almost imagines he can feel what Izzy's feeling, that strange foreign place in the back of his mind a storm of regret, fear and affection. He shakes his head, overwhelmed, and Izzy startles, pulling back. His eyes meet Ed's and they stare at each other for a long, tense moment.

Ed whines, questioning, and Izzy blinks. He leans in again, slowly, watching Ed as though he might suddenly break free. Ed holds as still as he can, neck starting to cramp. Izzy touches him again, running fingertips down his ribcage, stroking over his waist, touch tentative, feather light through Ed's thin cotton shirt. Izzy leans in again, using Ed's waist to balance himself as he pushes up higher this time. He nuzzles Ed's clavicle, lips tracing the line of it as his hands move up over Ed's chest to his shoulders.

Ed breathes quickly, panting, mouth lax over the bit as Izzy's mouth brushes the side of his throat. He's heard of angry omegas tearing the life out of badly behaved alphas with nothing but their teeth. Do it, the voice in the back of his mind whispers again, dark and familiar, the same rising babble that drove him to the room where Izzy was hidden, convalescing, all those months ago, carrying a loaded pistol and a fervent hope for an end at last. Izzy pauses, lips unmoving, and Ed braces himself. Finally, with great deliberation, Izzy opens his mouth and gently licks Ed's scent gland. A guttural sound punches out of Ed, and Izzy does it again, pressing in close. His hands knead at Ed's shoulders, the back of his neck, all the spots where tension is rapidly turning to pain. He snuffles, breathing in Ed's scent, rubbing his face in it, and Ed groans, already hard again.

“Oh!”

The soft exclamation startles Izzy again and he pulls back, over-balancing and falling back onto the mattress with a soft “oof!”

Ed tenses, pulling at the ropes again. He wants to cover Izzy with his body, to snarl at the f*cking intruder, bite him, rip his f*cking throat out…

“I'm so sorry, darling, I didn't mean to interrupt,” Stede trills, infuriatingly cheerful.

Izzy snorts, rolling his eyes, a blush spreading over his cheeks. He looks past Ed, and Ed can practically feel the smart remark he’s going to make, the kind of thing that might make Ed laugh or might make him slap Izzy across the face, depending on his mood. He can’t really do either at the moment. The remark never comes. Izzy stops, jaw going slack, eyes too wide and bright.

“Nest?” he asks, then glances at Ed, hesitant.

“Yes, Izzy,” Stede says warmly, dumping an armful of ephemera onto the bed next to Ed. “All for your nest, whatever you like… Would you like me to help you choose?”

Izzy just huffs, scooting forward and beginning to paw through the pile, single-minded. He picks up a small, square pillow, rubbing his face against the embroidered satin fabric. He grimaces, flinging it off the bed, then grabs a larger, softer pillow with a plush green velvet cover. He hums approvingly, tucking that one into the back corner of the nook before returning to the pile. He sorts it, lips parted, eyes shining, utterly fixated on his task as he accepts and rejects pillows and blankets and scraps of fabric, tucking them around the bed, plumping pillows and fluffing up blankets to his satisfaction.

“Ah!” Stede says. Ed twists, trying to see him—it’s no use, and he gives up with a discontented grunt. Stede doesn’t respond to him at all as he speaks to Izzy. “Look, darling! Here’s one thing that didn’t get spoiled.”

He holds out his hand, offering Izzy the soft fur he had clung to earlier. Izzy stares at it, looking for a moment as though he might burst into tears, and then he snatches it from Stede’s hand, sniffing it thoroughly before tucking it into the centre of his nest. He spends a few minutes more tucking and folding, plumping pillows and tugging blankets into place before he finally sits back and surveys his nest with a pleased huff. The sweet, unfamiliar scent of his pleasure hangs thick in the air. Still, his movements as he slowly stretches out are almost tentative. He glances at Ed, then looks away again, turning to Stede instead. He tilts his head, a question, an invitation.

Stede crawls onto the bed, careful not to disturb Izzy’s painstakingly chosen and arranged nesting materials. Izzy pants, fever on the rise again. He arches his back, whining as his hands run over his chest, his stomach, down towards his co*ck. He hesitates, looking up at Stede as he stretches out beside him. Stede smiles, reaching out to touch Izzy’s cheek.

“That’s it, darling,” he says, “just do what feels good—are you ready for a knot again?”

He reaches down, twining his fingers around Izzy’s, guiding his hand to his prick. Izzy gasps and moans, hips working as he starts to stroke his co*ck. He spreads his legs wider, the scent of his arousal hitting Ed like rum, like opium, like every hit of rhino horn he’s ever taken.

“Knot,” Izzy gasps, turning his head towards the hand stroking his face. “Please, alpha!”

Ed tenses again, jerking at the leash restricting him. His co*ck bobs between his legs, a growl building in his throat—he glares at Stede, lying in the nest with his mate, his omega, as if he has any f*cking right. Izzy wants Ed. He needs Ed. Who the f*ck does Stede think he is to come between them?

Stede looks up at Ed, straining at the edge of the nest. He frowns, stroking Izzy's hair absently.

“Just one moment, darling,” he says, pushing himself up to sit. Izzy whimpers, reaching out for Stede even as he continues to stroke his co*ck, grinding up into his own hand. Stede hums sympathetically and moves towards Ed. Ed snarls at him, teeth grinding at the bit in his mouth, feeling the wood splinter further.

“Get ahold of yourself, Ed!” Stede stage whispers, glancing over his shoulder at Izzy. “You're being ridiculous!”

Ed just snarls again—he's not ridiculous. Stede's ridiculous! How's he supposed to act when some beta prick is pawing at his f*cking mate? He'd like to see how Stede would act in his position. Even more ridiculous, he'd wager!

Stede sighs, rolling his eyes like he can read Ed's thoughts.

“I'm going to untie the leash, alright? It'll be better for Izzy if you're in the nest with him, I think.”

Ed finally stops growling at that—his eyes fix on Izzy in the centre of the soft, inviting nest. He wants to curl around him, blanket him with his body. He doesn't look away, attention fixed as Stede struggles to untie the leash from the bedpost.

“This would be a lot easier if you'd stop tugging, you know,” Stede says reproachfully. “You're tightening the bloody knots!”

Ed pays him no mind, his body pulling inexorably towards the irresistible gravity of Izzy's c*nt. Stede sighs, somehow managing to make an exhalation sound sarcastic.

“Fine,” he says. “I'll get the bloody scissors.”

*

Ed gives no sign that he’s heard a word Stede’s said—under the circ*mstances Stede supposes that’s not unreasonable, but honestly, the circ*mstances themselves aren’t reasonable. And Ed really is being ridiculous—alpha or not, a little decorum! A little grace! A little… well, a little less rape, to be perfectly frank, but then, that’s what the leash and muzzle are for.

Stede grabs a pair of embroidery scissors from his desk and hurries back to the bed. Izzy whines quietly, sounding so bereft that Stede wants to dive back into the nest himself. Ed pulls against the leash, already taut, starting to stress the bedpost. It creaks ominously. At this rate they’ll have to replace more than just the bloody mattress the next time they make port. If Stede hadn’t sprung for the Brazilian cherrywood, it would likely have shattered already.

“Alright, alright, keep your bloody pants on,” Stede blusters. “Or, well, I mean, obviously not, but a little patience, Edward, for god’s sake!”

He grips the leash near the now hopelessly over-tightened knot, braces himself, and snips it free.

“Edward!”

He squawks, flailing as Ed surges forward, pulling Stede off his feet. Izzy yelps as Ed falls onto him, hands still tied behind his back. Ed, wriggling desperately, pays him no more mind than he paid Stede. A moment later, another yip as Ed’s co*ck shoves into Izzy’s c*nt. Izzy whines, pinned beneath Ed’s weight, and Stede grabs hold of Ed’s leash, yanking him back. Ed turns, snarling, now hunched over Izzy. Izzy whines, tears rolling down his cheeks as Ed snaps his hips, harsh, possessive.

“Edward!” Stede exclaims again, “You stop that!”

Ed responds with another sharp thrust, resting his head on Izzy’s chest for leverage. Stede wraps the leash more firmly around his fist, preparing to tug harder, when Izzy’s eyes land on him. Ed’s next thrust forces a grunt from him, and he reaches out to Stede, plaintive. Ed growls, f*cking into him harder and he keens, head thrown back, hand extended.

“Well, sh*t,” Stede mutters, certain that Jim will kick the door in any minute now. He keeps ahold of the leash as he crawls back into the bed, giving Ed as wide a berth as he can, given that it’s, well, not that big a bed. He ignores Ed’s snarling as he situates himself behind Izzy’s head, pulling the little omega into his lap again. Ed follows, glaring at Stede before lowering his forehead to Izzy’s chest again, panting around the bit in his mouth, which is starting to look like its days are numbered. So that’s the bit and the leash just about done for—Stede just hopes the muzzle and ropes hold up better. He makes a mental note to complain to that particular shopkeep the next time they’re in the Republic. What happened to artisans taking pride in their craft?

Izzy whines softly, rubbing his face against Stede’s leg again, needy. He moans when Stede caresses his face. Ed snarls continuously, thrusts quick, forceful, jostling Izzy, pushing him into Stede.

“Shh, here you are, darling, I’ve got you…”

Stede reaches down towards Izzy’s co*ck—putting a lot of faith in Ed’s muzzle given the apparent quality of the other paraphernalia, which is very brave of him, he thinks. Ed gnashes his teeth, knocking his head into Stede’s arm.

“Ouch! Ed, stop it. You’re going to give me a bruise!” Stede complains, wrapping his hand around Izzy’s prick, a perfect handful. Izzy wails, arching into Stede’s touch. Ed’s snarling stops abruptly, his eyes crossing as Izzy’s c*nt starts to pulsate around him again. Izzy shakes, looking up at Stede, eyes wide, face tear-stained, and then he’s coming again, screaming, clutching at Stede’s legs. Ed moans, overwhelmed, as Izzy’s c*nt milks his knot, pulling his org*sm out of him like lightning from a clear sky. He collapses on top of Izzy, face pressed into the firm flesh of his chest, eyes glazed, drooling again.

Izzy grunts, then rolls his eyes. He wraps one arm around Ed, stroking the ends of his tangled hair. Ed turns his head, nuzzling his cheek into the thick pelt of Izzy’s chest hair as best he can with most of his lower face imprisoned in the muzzle. Stede can’t help but think the two of them look rather sweet like this. It’s just as he’s thinking this, looking down at the two of them with a strange warmth blooming in his chest, that Izzy reaches up to grip his hip.

“Oh!” he squeaks, startled. “Um. Do you need something, Izzy? A… a snack, maybe? A wider selection of pillows? Maybe some nice scarves— hey!”

A teasing smile playing over his lips, Izzy pushes his head down in Stede’s lap, tilting back until he can press his lips to Stede’s co*ck, straining behind the fall front of his trousers.

“Oh,” Stede babbles again, shifting awkwardly. He eyes the door, still waiting for Jim to kick it down. He squawks again as he feels Izzy's fingers tugging at the buttons holding his fall front closed. He grabs Izzy's hands, pushing them away as he rambles. “Oh, that's… I'm… that's very… but, uh, you certainly don't need to, uhh…”

Izzy blinks up at him, eyes too bright, lower lip jutting in an irresistible pout.

“I just mean, um, no, thank you, dear!”

Izzy’s face crumples in confusion, a touch of distress leaking back into his scent. He lets his hands drop, looking away from Stede.

“-m not good?” His voice is so small that Stede almost misses it. His eyes widen and he takes Izzy’s face in his hands.

“Oh, darling, of course you’re good!” he says. “Look at this lovely nest you’ve built! Look how well you take your alpha’s knot! You’re perfect, Izzy…”

Izzy still won’t meet Stede’s gaze, turning his eyes away as Stede hovers over him.

“Then why?” he asks, almost petulant.

“Um,” Stede says, absolutely certain that he had a very good reason just moments ago. “Well,” he adds in his most convincing and captainly voice. “I… I wouldn’t want to take advantage.”

Izzy scoffs, skeptical. Stede swallows, trying to focus on anything other than the fact that Izzy is just a hair’s breadth away from his aching co*ck, that it would be the work of barely an instant to pull it free and plunge it straight down Izzy’s…

“You’re not- I mean, you don’t… or, at least I can’t possibly be sure that you really… not that you don’t know your own mind, of course, but under the circ*mstances…”

“Please?” Izzy’s quiet entreaty breaks into Stede’s panicked stream of consciousness. Izzy’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips, and Stede can’t help staring at the perfect pink against pink, wet and warm and terribly inviting.

Stede, generally speaking, considers himself a man of principle. A man who lives by his own strict code, even! Certainly not a man who would ever take advantage of… of a subordinate in a vulnerable position!

Izzy’s lip trembles just a little as he looks up at Stede pleadingly.

“Please, captain, I want it…”

Stede feels his objections crumbling like a sandcastle in a hurricane. It’s not as if Izzy has ever acted particularly subordinate. Heat or not, surely he knows his own mind… It would be patronizing for Stede to protest too stridently. Paternalistic. Rude, even! Like turning down refreshments when your host offers them, maybe! Could be! Stede will have to look it up later in one of his books on mating etiquette, he’s hardly looked at the omega sections at all, now that he thinks about it and…

Izzy reaches up, fingers running over the outline of Stede’s co*ck.

“Oh,” Stede says breathlessly, not entirely sure what’s about to come out of his mouth, “well, if you really want to… go on, then…”

He cringes—he’d be the first to admit he’s not always as “smooth” as he’d like to be, but that was a poor showing even by his standards. To be fair, with his mouth abruptly bone-dry and his head spinning as all the blood in his body abruptly migrates to his prick, it’s something of a miracle Stede managed anything remotely resembling a coherent sentence.

Izzy, blessedly, barely seems to notice. He fumbles at Stede’s fall front, pawing at the buttons with heat-clumsy fingers. Stede’s hands shake as he reaches down to help. Really, he hardly seems much more agile than Izzy at the moment. His heart pounds in his ears as his co*ck springs free. It bobs in the air, heavy and thick, big enough to rival some alphas, even. It slaps down on Izzy’s cheek, leaving a smear of precome in its wake. Izzy closes his eyes, moaning. Stede’s not entirely certain what to do about the angle. He and Ed have played with similar positions, of course, but only on the rare occasion when Ed felt like having his throat f*cked, rather than taking Stede to pieces with his little kitten licks and his pouting lips. And surely Izzy doesn’t want…

Izzy opens his mouth, tilting his head back. He digs the fingers of one hand into Stede’s thighs, whining beseechingly. With the other he takes hold of Stede’s co*ck, guiding the head between his lips, running his tongue over it, dipping down into the slit, then sweeping the flat of his tongue in a broad circle.

“Oh, f*ck,” Stede gasps. Izzy whines again, pulling at Stede’s thighs with both hands as he suckles at the head of his co*ck, urging him forward and, well, in for a penny, in for a pound. If he’s going to be stabbed to death by Jim, and very possibly rightly so, it might as well be for a damned good reason. Stede rocks forward as gently as he can, shivering as the tight, wet heat of Izzy’s throat opens to him, clinging tight to the shredded remnants of his self-control.

“Oh, god, I… Izzy, are you alright?” he says, so desperate to thrust that he feels the ache of it in his f*cking fingernails. Izzy’s only response is an irritated growl.

“Ow!” Stede says as Izzy’s strong fingers dig into his thighs. “God, fine, have it your way!”

He pulls back, ignoring another little growl from Izzy, and then thrusts, harder this time. Izzy makes a desperate sound in the back of his throat. Ed, from his supine position on Izzy’s chest, groans too as Izzy’s c*nt squeezes around his knot.

Stede’s already frayed restraint snaps—frankly, he thinks he’s already held back quite a lot, under the circ*mstances, and at this point the prospect of Jim stabbing him to death is more a minor quibble than a serious concern. He runs his hands over Izzy’s shoulders, his chest. Izzy’s throat bulges, the outline of his co*ck clearly visible as he rocks his hips faster, spurred on by Izzy’s muffled moans, the little clicks in the back of his throat as he fights his gag reflex, throat muscles working around Stede’s prick. He drools, spit bubbling from the corners of his mouth and down over his chin as Stede f*cks his throat, hips snapping now, all restraint utterly lost to the pleasure of the omega opening up beneath him. Stede wraps a hand around Izzy’s throat, feeling the thickness of his own co*ck as it forces its way deeper, impossibly deep, and Izzy moans urgently, his hands gripping his own chest, pinching and twisting his pebbled nipples. He reaches down to grasp his own co*ck, trapped between him and Ed. His throat ripples as he moans and gags around Stede’s co*ck, and then his back arches, body taut as he comes, shaking and twitching. Ed makes a panicked noise, fingers twitching convulsively behind his back as Izzy’s c*nt milks him dry. Stede’s hips stutter, mouth hanging open.

“Izzy,” he gasps as he feels the wave of his climax starting to wash over him. “Oh, god, Izzy, I’m going to…”

He moves to pull out, fighting every instinct that tells him to push his co*ck as far down Izzy’s throat as he can, to come so deep in him that Izzy won’t even have to swallow. Izzy grabs hold of Stede’s thigh. holding him in place, a possessive growl vibrating from his chest all the way up into his throat, pulsing around Stede’s prick as his hips work, co*ck plunging in deep, jerking as he comes.

He stays there for a moment, trembling as Izzy swallows around him, sending aftershocks sparking from the base of his spine. Izzy whines as Stede’s co*ck softens, letting it slowly slip free of his mouth. He laps at it gently, looking up at Stede, face shining with spit and come and sweat and god knows what else.

“Good?” he asks, voice even rougher than usual, and terribly vulnerable.

Stede gives the only answer he can think of—he leans down and kisses him deeply.

*

Izzy blinks up at Stede as Stede pulls back from the kiss. A lazy contentment washes over him, making his limbs heavy, turning the constant thrum of desire, the electric bite of heat, into something indulgent. The feel of Ed’s co*ck in his c*nt is a pleasure, the edge of pain from his injured c*nt nothing but a counterpoint, like a hint of chili pepper sprinkled on chocolate.

“I’ll be right back, darling,” Stede says, kissing his forehead. “Just need the loo!”

He disappears, leaving Izzy staring up at the ceiling, hands absently stroking Ed’s hair. Ed groans quietly. Izzy can feel Ed’s co*ck starting to stiffen in the heat of his c*nt, still pulsing after his last org*sm. The smell of Ed’s arousal, thick and heady, fills Izzy’s senses, instinct washing away everything but the scent of his alpha, his need to be f*cked, and god, he wants it, he wants all of it, wants Ed’s hands holding him down, Ed’s teeth in his throat, Ed’s co*ck claiming his holes. He wants Stede’s hand on his co*ck, wants Stede’s co*ck down his throat again, the velvet soft skin over the hard core of it, wants them both to f*ck him at once, to hold him and take him, to f*ck him until he cries.

His hands drift down to the ropes holding Ed’s hands secure behind his back. He’s not supposed to. He knows he’s not supposed to, but he can’t remember why, can’t remember anything but the need to feel Ed’s hands on him, to submit to his alpha’s dominance. Even the cool trickle of fear down his spine only adds to it, his c*nt pulsing slick, oozing around Ed’s knot, just barely too swollen to pull out. Ed growls softly as Izzy’s fingers trace the knots holding him. He presses his face into the side of Izzy’s neck, inhaling sharply, growling again when he finds Stede’s scent there, then groaning as the display of possessiveness makes Izzy’s c*nt twitch. Izzy turns his head, lapping at Ed’s scent gland, submissive. His fingers work at the knots, loosening them until, suddenly, startlingly, Ed pulls his hands free. He surges forward instantly, grabbing Izzy’s wrists, pinning them above his head. He holds them one-handed, reaching up to rip the muzzle free from his face, flinging it aside.

He lowers his face to Izzy’s neck, lips brushing Izzy’s throat as he scents him deeply. Izzy whimpers quietly, tilting his head to the side, exposing his throat to his alpha. Ed wraps a hand around it, squeezing just tight enough that Izzy’s c*nt pulsates again, so f*cking wet now that it won’t even matter if Ed pulls out a little earlier than he should.

Ed bares his teeth, looking down at Izzy, pinned beneath him. His hips snap forward, and Izzy’s eyes roll back in his head. Ed f*cks him with small, tight thrusts, knot pushing deeper and deeper into his c*nt. Slowly, his thrusts become longer, hips slapping into Izzy’s as he f*cks him harder and harder, knot slowly beginning to slip out of Izzy’s soaking c*nt.

“E- Eddie,” he sobs, forcing his voice past the tight squeeze of Ed’s hand. “f*ck my ass, please, please, Eddie, I want it!”

Ed snarls, hand tightening on Izzy’s throat as he pulls out, then releasing abruptly. Izzy coughs and gasps as Ed grabs the thigh of his foreshortened leg, forcing his thighs farther apart, pushing them back and up, and then Ed’s co*ck pushes against his ass, Izzy’s own slick easing the way as the head pops in. Izzy’s eyes roll back again, half-words and desperate moans dragged out of him as Ed bottoms out in one long, cruel stroke.

Ed stares down at him intensely, his gaze flaying Izzy open even as he f*cks his ass ruthlessly. Izzy sobs, writhing beneath him, arching and begging.

“Please, please, Eddie, wanna touch my co*ck, please let me,” he gasps, tears pouring down his cheeks as Ed’s hips grind against his oversensitive prick. Ed just growls in response, squeezing Izzy’s wrists tighter. Izzy wails as Ed reaches between them, grabbing his co*ck, pumping it in time with his punishing thrusts, grip demanding, mean, perfect. Izzy cries openly as Ed’s harsh thrusts and twisting, squeezing grip drag him towards a climax so intense it’s almost painful.

“Eddie, alpha, please, I can’t!” he gasps, overwhelmed, and Ed thrusts faster, squeezes harder.

“You’ll f*cking come when I say you come,” Ed growls into Izzy’s ear. “You’re my f*cking bitch. f*cking mine, you hear me, omega?”

Izzy sobs harder, nodding urgently.

“Yes, alpha,” he says, voice shaking, org*sm building, terrifying, a tidal wave inside of him. Ed snaps his hips again, knot locking tight in Izzy’s ass, and Izzy can feel Ed’s teeth as Ed grins against his throat.

“Good—now f*cking come!”

Izzy screams as Ed’s teeth lock into his scent gland without warning, hand squeezing his co*ck one last time as it spurts, empty c*nt squirting as his ass clenches around Ed’s knot. He feels Ed’s co*ck shoot deep in his ass, the bright, blinding pleasure-pain of his alpha’s claim, teeth sharp in his throat, and Izzy sobs, body shaking out of control as he comes. He collapses back, limp, aftershocks running through him as Ed finally releases his wrists. Ed unlocks his teeth from Izzy’s throat slowly, almost tenderly, lapping at the bond bite as Izzy starts, for the second time in his life, to purr.

*

Stede hurries through his ablutions, not wanting to leave Izzy alone with Ed for too long—even with Ed thoroughly bound and muzzled, he’s not at all sure Izzy’s in a position to defend himself should it come to it. He washes his hands and grabs a soft cloth, wetting it with warm water. He looks with some regret on the pile of broken vials, making a mental note to find a port where he can replenish his supply. In the meantime, he’ll just have to hope that the not entirely harmonious combination of scents doesn’t linger too much.

Glass crunches under the soles of his shoes. Well, that won’t do. He rifles through the cupboard until he finds a small broom and dustpan, sweeping the worst of the mess away. The last thing Izzy needs is another missing toe—he's only got five left as it is!

He stands, hands on his hips, surveying the results of his labour. Not half bad, if he does say so himself. A captain should know how to do all the work his crew does, after all! He’s always saying that! At the very least he’s certainly always thought it! And never let it be said that Stede Bonnet is all talk—or all thought, as it were. He’s a man of action! A man who leads by example!

He dumps the glass into a waste bin, making a note to ask Lucius to take care of it later. No need to go overboard after all. And besides, really should be getting back to—

Izzy screams. Stede turns and races back to the cabin, god, he never should have left him alone with Ed, what was he thinking? He wasn’t thinking at all, as usual, that’s the whole bloody problem! He brandishes the little broom and dustpan as he runs for the bed nook. The door bursts open seconds later, Jim somehow brandishing three knives as they follow him.

“You left them alone? Estupido!” they shout, and honestly, that’s fair.

Stede throws the curtains back, dreading what he’ll find.

Izzy blinks up at him, eyes glazed, pupils blown wide, purring loudly as Ed licks the fresh bond bite on his throat. Ed, arms and legs wrapped around Izzy’s body, looks up, eyes narrowing, a warning snarl building in his throat.

“You untied him? What the f*ck?” Jim grabs Stede by the arm, moving to shove him aside.

This time, it’s Izzy who growls, teeth bared, eyes flashing. He wraps one arm around Ed, protective, and reaches out to grab Stede’s sleeve, pulling him down into the nest. Jim puts their hands up, knives disappearing back to wherever they came from.

“Okay, jefe, I hear you,” they say, slowly backing away. They glare at Stede as they step back through the open door to join the rest of the crew, peering wide-eyed into the captains’ cabin. “Anything happens to him, cabrón…”

“Oh, for god’s sake, I know, you’ll cut out my eyes and use them as marbles or something equally creative,” Stede snaps, even as a voice in the back of his mind notes quietly that discretion is the better part of valour, especially when dealing with a person who could certainly throw a knife straight through his throat without even stepping back into the room. “I’ll… I’ll take care of him, alright? I won’t leave them alone again. I promise!”

Jim continues to glare as Olu gently shuts the door again.

“Good luck!” Archie calls cheerfully, waving. “They’re probably gonna kill you anyway!”

“Archie,” Jim says, annoyed. “Come on!”

“What? That’s what you said, remember, I was hungry and Roach made us all sandwiches and when we were all eating the sandwiches you said we'd probably—“

The door clicks shut.

Ed growls quietly as Izzy pulls Stede deeper into the nest and Izzy whines, wriggling against his alpha. Ed’s eyes glaze over—he grunts, turning his attention back to Izzy, licking at the fresh bond bite again. Stede lets Izzy pull him down beside them, curling into Izzy’s side. The low, steady rumble of his purr lulls him to sleep.

Chapter 7

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Izzy strokes Ed’s hair with one hand, slowly, cautiously reaching down to hold Stede’s hand in the other. Stede snores, open-mouthed, head resting on Izzy’s shoulder. He looks too vulnerable like this. He is too vulnerable like this, the f*cking idiot, sleeping like a lamb in bed with a jealous alpha and an omega too f*cking weak and useless to protect him. Ed sniffs Stede, eyes narrow. He growls, shifting to blanket Izzy’s body with his own. Stede mumbles in his sleep as Ed tries to push him away.

“Ed,” Izzy says. “He’s your mate, for f*ck’s sake.”

Ed freezes, looking at Izzy sharply and Izzy cringes. Should have kept his f*cking mouth shut. He holds his breath, waiting. After a moment, Ed snorts.

“Yeah, I know that,” he says, defensively casual. “Obviously. Just… don’t see why he has to stay so f*cking close to you…”

He moves again, shuffling Izzy to the side. The knot tugs in Izzy’s ass and he tenses, familiar ice cold fear lancing through his guts. Ed stops, staring down at him. The bond bite in Izzy’s throat throbs, keeping time with his heartbeat. He can feel Ed behind it, clearer than before, an indistinct image suddenly brought into focus. It’s unfamiliar, overwhelming even. He doesn’t know if Ed feels it too. He never seemed to before.

Beside them, Stede shifts, mumbling discontentedly. He rolls over, one hand patting the soft blankets and pillows that make up the heart of Izzy’s nest. His hand finds Izzy’s arm and he mumbles something, friendly, incoherent babble as he snuggles up to Izzy again. Ed growls softly, frustration and jealousy bleeding through the bond, overwhelming. He pushes himself up suddenly, knot yanking painfully at Izzy’s hole and Izzy gasps, bracing himself for the pain. He squeezes his eyes shut, lips pressed together. Above him, Ed goes perfectly still. Something Izzy can’t identify rolls through him, overwhelming the jealousy, the anger. When he opens his eyes, Ed’s staring at him again. Izzy turns his head away. Ed so rarely looks him in the eye—it feels too intense. Too intimate.

“I’m hurting you.”

Izzy’s eyes dart back to Ed for a split second. His face is no more readable than the jumble of feelings pouring through the bond. Panic rises in Izzy’s throat. He doesn’t know what Ed’s going to do.

“f*ck off,” he mutters, shrinking under Ed’s gaze. Ed pulls back again, though he doesn’t jostle the knot this time. He kneels between Izzy’s legs, his hair falling like a curtain in front of his face. Izzy’s head spins as he tries to follow the complex torrent of feeling, to pick apart what’s Ed and what’s him. He takes shallow breaths, trying to force himself to relax in case Ed decides he’s had enough of this and tears himself free. The thought nauseates him, the bond bite suddenly a terrifying ache.

“You’re scared of me.”

Ed’s voice is low, so low that Izzy almost doesn’t catch the words. He sounds like he does when he’s solving a puzzle or planning a f*ckery, muttering to himself as he works. Izzy scoffs. He’s not f*cking scared of Ed. No more than any omega should be of a proper alpha, anyway. He’s lucky. Ed kept him after the mutiny. Told everyone he couldn’t have done it without him. Made him his first mate, even! Izzy’s been his, all his life, even before he took the knife Ed slipped him to Hornigold’s bed, before he drove it through the old man’s throat while his co*ck was still hard in Izzy’s c*nt, before he smeared Hornigold's blood on Ed's face, his mouth, and told him to tell the crew he'd been the one to do it. He’s been Ed’s since that first, tentative touch on his thigh, Ed’s hand tracing the contour of his body like he was something beautiful. Something wanted. No matter what came next.

“You’re talking f*cking sh*te, Edward, do you f*cking hear yourself? Absolute f*cking bollocks—“

“Izzy.”

Ed’s voice cuts him off, the edge of command in it sending a shiver down his spine. He licks his lips, feeling suddenly, absurdly exposed—f*cking ridiculous for an omega in heat, lying in a f*cking nest with his alpha’s co*ck up his ass.

“How long have you been scared of me?”

Izzy grits his teeth. This is so f*cking stupid.

“You’re being f*cking stupid, Eddie. I’m not f*cking scared of you,” he snaps, still not meeting Ed’s gaze. Ed says nothing. Izzy licks his lips again. The silence feels too f*cking heavy.

“You’ve always been a good captain. A good alpha.” He speaks tonelessly. It’s easy to comfort Ed this way, at least. He’s said it to himself enough over the years. “You could have just left me at the next port after we killed Hornigold. I expected you to. Thought I’d have to get myself out of another brothel. But you didn’t. You let me stay. You gave me a sword, treated me like one of your crew. You only punish me when I deserve it. You never shared me out like Hornigold did. Hardly ever even f*cked me in front of the crew, and you only did it when you needed to put me in my place. God, Ed, you made me your f*cking first mate! What the f*ck more could I ask for?”

The feeling throbbing through their bond coalesces. Izzy still doesn’t know what to make of it, a kind of ache in his chest, tightness in his throat, like Ed is f*cking grieving something.

“Were you always scared?”

And Ed’s staring straight through him. Ed can feel everything he feels, properly now. Izzy can see it in his face, can feel it through their f*cking bond mark, and f*cked if that doesn’t just take the f*cking cake, of course he’d be handed everything he’s ever wanted only to realize it’s the worst f*cking thing that’s ever happened to him. He remembers watching Ed on deck, shouting and roughhousing with Jack. He remembers the way Hornigold looked at them, his boys, the alphas he hand-picked to mold in his own image. He remembers Ed’s hands on him, on deck, in Hornigold’s bed, tucked away in a cargo hold, just the two of them, them and Jack sometimes, but it’s Ed’s hands he remembers, Ed’s hands he’d know anywhere. Somehow, no matter where they were, what they were doing, the feel of Ed’s hands on him has always been like sunlight to a drowning man, the shimmering promise of air far above. He remembers the first time Hornigold gave him to Ed, that first, soft touch, and had anyone ever touched him like that before, or since? He remembers the moment Hornigold made Ed rip himself free, the agony even as he knew it was coming, even as he knew Hornigold would f*ck him that night, probably as soon as Ed left, that this agony was nothing compared to what was to come.

He remembers the blinding, choking terror as he realized that, come what may, he would let Ed tear him apart, again and again, for as long as he lived.

Izzy squeezes his eyes shut, trying to resist the command in Ed’s question even as the answer forces its way through clenched teeth.

“Yes.”

*

Ed doesn’t really need the answer. He can feel it now, part of him tied to Izzy, a low thrum of awareness. He doesn’t know how the f*ck he missed it before. But it used to feel… foreign. Invasive. Like the soft rumble of voices in the next room when he was trying to sleep, like the ticking of a clock he couldn’t find, like someone else’s heartbeat, ever-present, demanding, inescapable. It made him want to scream, smash something, tear his f*cking hair out, and the closer Izzy was, the worse it got. Not that sending him away made it any better. He tried that once, right after the little f*cker ran Stede through. His absence was like a shard of ice, lodged in the back of Ed’s brain. Couldn’t live with him, couldn’t live without him, and he never even knew why.

The instant he lodged his teeth in Izzy’s throat, it felt like a fog clearing, burnt away by the rising sun. Stupid, weak f*cking impulse, the kind of thing Hornigold beat out of all of them, reminding them over and over—love of an omega makes an alpha weak. He believed it, too.

Still believes it.

Doesn’t know what he f*cking believes.

Izzy won’t f*cking look at him. He wants to grab his face, force him to meet his f*cking eye, scream at him until… until what? Until he stops feeling so f*cking scared? Yeah, Ed, great plan, f*cking foolproof.

Outside, daylight is fading. It streaks in through the window, a last, golden hurrah before nightfall, casting soft shadows across Izzy’s nest. Anger twists in his belly at that, too. He wants to tear it apart, wants to rip himself free of Izzy, body and mind. Golden light bathes Izzy’s body, softening the lines of his face, shining in the thick hair that covers his body. It sparkles on the barbells piercing his nipples—Ed remembers when he got them, remembers Izzy sneaking back onto the ship after their first real shore leave, a few weeks before Ed made him first mate. He was almost shy when he showed them to Ed, looking up at him through half-lidded eyes, hoping for approval. Ed pinned him down by the throat, snarling at the thought of someone else’s hands on Izzy, someone else pushing a needle through that soft flesh… He’d wanted to rip them out with his f*cking teeth. He’d held Izzy down instead, f*cking him hard, choking him until his eyes rolled back. He’d felt Izzy’s fear then, too, the moment of panic before he lost consciousness, that infuriating, unidentifiable, alien sensation. He didn’t know what it was, then. How the f*ck could he not have known?

He’d dragged Izzy out on deck that time. He wasn’t first mate yet. Wasn’t anything yet, not really. Most of the crew thought Ed killed Hornigold himself. He let them think it. To them, Izzy was just Hornigold’s plaything, a pet to be shared out as a reward, an added incentive, though not enough to keep the old bastard alive in the end. The thought of how many of them had put their hands on Izzy, how many of them had f*cked him before, made Ed want to tear their f*cking throats out even as he threw Izzy’s limp body down on the deck. He’d grunted, the strange static of his presence drifting back into Ed’s mind, an irritant, a connection he hadn’t asked for. A f*cking weakness.

He remembers the crew laughing, shouting, excited. He remembers the hollow, sickening dread in that strange, unwanted space in his mind. Izzy’d scrambled back, disoriented, surrounded. He screamed when Ed scruffed him, pushing his face down into the deck, his hands scrabbling at the wood as the men surrounded them, ready to play a game they knew all too f*cking well. f*ckers. Presumptuous f*cking f*ckers. Ed had snarled at them, eyes wild, teeth bared, until they backed away, startled, disappointed. Good. They needed to learn. Things were different with Hornigold gone. Izzy was his. Only his.

He remembers Izzy’s soft whimper, cut off when Ed shook him by the back of the neck, the soft gasp when he smacked Izzy’s ass before pulling his co*ck from his leathers. The crew had watched from a distance, hooting and hollering, shouting encouragement as he f*cked into Izzy’s ass, grabbing him by the hips to drag him back onto his co*ck, Izzy’s panic blending with arousal, confusion, fear. He’d shrunk into himself, turning his face away from the men, biting his lips to keep from crying out.

Ed had pulled out as he finished, coming over Izzy’s thighs, his ass, his lower back, watching it mingle with the blood that rolled down Izzy’s inner thighs. Ed could almost feel the pain of it, the sheer f*cking terror at what might come next, and how f*cking dare Izzy make him feel that way?

“Stay still, keep your f*cking ass up,” he’d snarled, command coming all too easily to him, and Izzy froze. He’d barely even whimpered at the sound of Ed pulling his belt free. He’d stayed exactly where he was told, ass in the air, legs spread to expose his c*nt as Ed cracked the belt down. That made him scream, alright. Ed remembers the power of it, the feeling in his chest when Izzy held his position, even as Ed brought the belt down over and over again, laying lines of bright, vivid bruises over Izzy’s ass, down the backs of his thighs. It was f*cking beautiful, the sight of them. The knowledge that Izzy was his, that he could do whatever he wanted. That Izzy would let him do whatever he wanted…

Izzy sobbed quietly through his punishment, chest pressed down into the deck, face turned to the side, eyes squeezed tight. By the time Ed stopped, his skin was a vivid purplish red from the top of his ass all the way down his thighs, broken in places, blood beading, mixing with the mess between his legs. The look of it reminded Ed of spoiled fruit, the strange beauty of a ruined thing. Izzy hadn’t broken from the position Ed ordered him to hold even when the belt stopped striking him. Shivers ran through his body, thighs trembling with effort. Ed had reached out, stroking a hand down Izzy’s flank, his terror and Izzy’s suddenly indistinguishable. He could do anything to Izzy. He could tear him apart.

He traces the lines of Izzy’s body with his eyes, memory blending with reality before his eyes. It’s been so f*cking long, decades of the two of them together. Silver threads through Izzy’s hair, his beard. He’s stronger now, Ed thinks, staring at the thick, powerful muscle of his shoulders, his arms. The soft layers of fat on his chest and belly, bruises on his ribcage, long scratch winding down to the base of his co*ck. The curve of his thighs, bracketing Ed’s hip, his one strong calf, the scar truncating his left leg… Ed tears his eyes away, suddenly sickened. He looks up at Izzy’s face instead, the familiar, sharp line of his nose, his strong jaw, the bruise on his cheek, scab high on his cheekbone where Ed’s rings caught him… f*ck. The length of Izzy’s neck, finger shaped bruises, some faded, some fresh… Ed squeezes his eyes shut, pressing the palms of his hands into them. Everywhere he looks, he sees bruises and scars, a history of violence written on Izzy’s body. How much of it did Ed write himself?

Ed made him first mate a few weeks after that… incident. It wasn’t an apology. He doesn’t think Izzy’d even have accepted an apology. But it gave him a little power. A little protection, beyond just being the captain’s omega. No one but Ed could give him orders on their ship. No one but Ed could f*cking touch him on their ship.

Ed let him keep the piercings, in the end.

They looked nice.

Ed stares down at him now, face turned away. Always f*cking turned away.

“Why didn’t you f*cking stop me?” It’s the wrong question. It’s the only question. Izzy doesn’t say anything. He stares out the window, face washed in the red light of sunset. Ed grabs his chin, turning his head, too rough, and he feels another spike of fear from Izzy, and a rush of arousal, blending together, dizzyingly contradictory. Ed squeezes, feels the sharp arc of pain through the bond.

“Why?” he demands again, his voice a quiet hiss. He bends down, face just inches from Izzy’s as Ed stares into his eyes. There are no answers there. Ed wants to f*cking scream. He wants to rip his knot out of Izzy’s ass so he can pace around the cabin, so he can smash something or run out onto the deck and dive into the cold, unsettled waves. The burst of terror, sheer nauseating dread when he braces himself to pull free is too much. He can’t do it. He can’t f*cking get away.

When could Izzy ever tell him what to do?

Izzy looks up at him, eyes wide, lost, pulled along through the rush of Ed’s feelings like a dinghy in a hurricane.

“Ed,” he says softly, “Eddie, please. I don’t know what you want.”

Ed’s shoulders sag. The hand gripping Izzy’s jaw softens, fingers stroking over familiar skin. Izzy moans quietly, pushing into his touch, his ass pulsating around Ed’s knot, the sheer pleasure of it almost enough to pull him back down into the mindless place, where nothing could exist beyond the tight clutch of Izzy’s body around his prick. He takes a breath, fighting through the fog of desire. This is important.

“You’re… you’re mine,” Ed says, voice barely more than an exhalation even as a growl rises in his chest, possessive. Izzy reaches up to stroke his face gently—he looks worried. Confused.

“Course I am,” he says, no hesitation, no uncertainty. Ed frowns, dipping his head to nuzzle at the bond bite. Izzy wraps his arms around Ed, stroking his hair. Ed swallows, suddenly f*cking terrified. Izzy’s arms tighten around him, his one whole leg wrapping around Ed’s hips. Ed whispers his next question, not even sure he wants Izzy to hear it.

“Am I yours?”

The silence stretches out, enough to convince Ed that Izzy hasn’t heard, or at least won’t answer. Probably for the best.

Izzy breathes in sharply, hesitates.

“I don’t know,” he says at last, still petting Ed’s hair like he’s soothing a child. Ed can feel his uncertainty through their bond, perfect mirror to his own. He wraps his arms around Izzy’s shoulders, clinging to him. He buries his face in Izzy’s throat, breathing in his scent, open-mouthed, as he starts to cry.

*

Stede wakes up slowly, disoriented. It’s dark, after sunset, or possibly before. He’s not sure how long he slept. He scrubs a hand across his face, grimacing as he wipes away the dried remnants of drool and the sharp crust of sleep in the corners of his eyes. He squints, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. A bit of light leaks in beneath the door of the cabin, enough for him to pick out shadows, indistinct shapes in the bed. Reaching out a hand, he pats the unfamiliar fabrics, frowning. He feels velvet and silk, the brush of soft fur. He can hear Ed snoring, soft and familiar. A long moment drags by before he understands why his stomach twists at that thought.

He closes his hand around the fur at the centre of the bed, squeezing it absentmindedly as he waits for his sleep-fogged mind to clear. The fur… Izzy’s fur… Nest! He brought Izzy materials for his nest! And god it really is comfortable, isn’t it?

He stretches, wincing at the crick in his neck. Sleeping without a pillow really isn’t for the faint of heart.

He sighs, then groans as the day comes back into focus, heart sinking as he listens to Ed breathing.

“Bonnet?”

Ah, so he’s not the only one awake.

“Yes?” he asks, voice rough with sleep. “Do you need something, dear?”

Izzy’s quiet for a moment, and Stede wishes he could see his face.

“Could use some water,” Izzy whispers. Ed snorts, grumbling in his sleep and Izzy goes quiet again. The silence feels tense. Stede waits, unmoving. Ed’s breath evens out again, deepening to a snore, and Stede hears Izzy exhale.

“My leg’s gone to sleep,” Izzy says finally, “but there’s not much you can do about that. Don’t want to wake him.”

Stede chuckles—the idea of anything short of a cannon blast at very close range waking Ed from a sound sleep in the middle of the night is perfectly absurd. He’s surprised Izzy doesn’t know that—they must have shared a bed at some point in the past thirty years. Surely! Stede’s chest tightens as he thinks of everything he’s seen in the past few hours. He can’t really be sure of anything, can he?

“Not to worry, darling!” he trills in a stage whisper. “Just one moment!”

He feels his way to the edge of the bed, trying not to disrupt Izzy’s nest too much. He’d worked so hard on it, after all. Stede keeps a stash of candles in a credenza by the bed. He feels his way along the floor, carefully, carefully…

“f*ck!” he yelps, stubbing his toe.

“Shhh!” Izzy’s hushing is at least as loud as Stede’s cursing—probably louder, actually! Stede opens his mouth to argue, then stops. If all goes well, there’ll be plenty of time to fight with Izzy later. It’s become one of his favourite pastimes, though he’s not quite sure when that happened.

He restrains himself, muttering a much quieter “f*ck,” as his toe continues to throb. Behind him, Izzy sighs, exasperated. Sensitive little bugger. Well. At least Stede’s found the credenza. He rifles through the drawers, trying not to make too much noise as he pulls out a candle and attempts to light it.

“sh*t!” he hisses as he burns his thumb on the first attempt. Izzy heaves another sigh, and Stede would like to see him try lighting a bloody candle in the pitch black! “Oh, bugger,” he mutters, dropping a second match, stomping on the glowing ember as it lands on the rug beneath the credenza. That’s sure to leave a mark. Ugh. He likes that bloody rug. He grabs the last match in the pack. He takes a deep breath, centering himself. You’ve got this, Stede, he thinks.

“For f*ck’s sake, Bonnet, whatever you’re faffing about with, will you f*cking get on with it?” Izzy whispers, and that’s definitely louder than Stede’s swearing, and Stede’s not even going to mention it, he’s the very picture of restraint, unlike some first mates, who shall remain nameless! He strikes the match, bringing it to the candle wick as quick as he can.

“Hah!” he exclaims, triumphant, as it catches. Izzy responds with an irritated huff—Stede pays him no mind. He pours a little wax into the reservoir of the brass candleholder he keeps for this purpose, then presses the base of the candle to it, waiting for it to harden before he makes his way back to the nook-turned-nest.

Ah, yes. He sees Izzy’s problem now. Ed lies fully on top of him, his weight pressing Izzy down into the nest. His open mouth rests on Izzy’s new bond mark, lax and drooling, face tear-stained but peaceful. Izzy’s mouth twists in irritation even as he strokes Ed’s hair tenderly. Well, lucky for him, Stede had to devise a solution to this particular problem as soon as he and Ed started sharing a bed, or else resign himself to never taking a pee in the middle of the night again.

He sets the candleholder on a side table and crawls back into the nook, grabbing a well-stuffed pillow from the edge of the nest, ignoring Izzy’s whine of protest.

“Right,” he says, tilting his head to the side, strategizing.

“You planning to smother me, then?” Izzy drawls. “I’m impressed, Bonnet—didn’t think you had the balls.”

Stede rolls his eyes, then bends over the two of them, trying to peer between Izzy’s legs.

“Are you still… um…” Stede waves his hands vaguely in the direction of Izzy’s nether region and Izzy chuckles, darkly amused by Stede’s discomfort.

“He slipped out hours ago,” is all he says. Stede is grateful that the candlelight probably isn’t bright enough for Izzy to see him blush. From the look in Izzy’s eyes, though, he knows already. Well. Onward and upward, as it were!

He takes a deep breath, then takes hold of Ed’s arm, lifting it up enough that he can push the pillow under it, working it between Ed and Izzy, ignoring Izzy’s grumbling. He grabs Izzy by the shoulders, pulling him abruptly free.

“f*ck you playing at, Bonnet…?” Izzy trails off as Ed mumbles, shifting in his sleep. Then, expression perfectly placid, he wraps his arms and legs around the pillow, breath settling again into the calm rhythm of sleep. Izzy shakes his head, a rueful smile twisting his lips, the candle casting dancing shadows across his face as he looks down at Ed. He reaches out, stroking Ed’s hair back from his forehead. It makes Stede’s chest ache. Izzy sighs, then looks up at Stede again. “Right. I’m desperate for a piss.”

After minimal bickering, and the swift establishment of a wary detente, Stede helps Izzy hobble to the bathroom. Obviously, simply carrying him would be much more efficient, as he pointed out when Izzy tried to insist he could simply get there himself if Stede would just hand him his leg. But when has Izzy ever listened to him, no matter how excellent and how skillfully presented his arguments! He makes a mental note to argue with Izzy about that later, too. For now, arguing about their arguments will simply have to wait.

Izzy wrinkles his nose as they step up into the toilette. The stench of the essential oils is a little diminished, but it must still be overwhelming to an omega’s powerful senses. Still, Izzy gives a relieved sigh as Stede helps him lower himself to the chamberpot. Stede turns away to give him a bit of privacy at least. He bustles to the side of the room, grabbing a fresh cloth and wetting it, adding a touch of a gently scented rose oil that survived Ed’s little outburst earlier. He listens as discreetly as he can, waiting until he hears the stream of Izzy’s piss taper and stop.

“Alright,” he says, too cheerfully, as he turns back. “Let’s get you cleaned up a bit, shall we?”

Izzy looks up at him dubiously. Stede proffers the damp cloth, smiling encouragingly.

“Here you are! For your, um… your…”

He gestures vividly again. Izzy rolls his eyes.

“My c*nt, Bonnet?” he says dryly.

Stede sniffs disapprovingly.

“Well, if you want to be vulgar about it!”

Izzy grins, wicked gleam in his eyes.

“I do, thanks,” he says, grabbing the cloth from Stede’s hand. His smile widens, mischievous. “But he didn’t f*ck my c*nt.”

Stede flushes so dark that he’s almost certain Izzy can see it even in the low light of the toilette.

“Oh! God! I’m… I… that is, um, do you… do you need me to get Roach? Are you… are you hurt?”

He turns his eyes up to the ceiling as Izzy reaches down to wipe between his legs. It seems absurd, feeling this shy with a man he’s jerked off twice now—a man who took Stede’s co*ck down his throat just a few hours ago, for god’s sake! But Izzy has a way of making him feel off-balance.

“f*ck are you on about?”

Stede looks down at Izzy again. Izzy’s confusion seems genuine.

“I just mean… if he… if he f*cked you in a way that… well, that you didn’t want…”

Izzy’s frown deepens.

“I asked him to f*ck my ass, Bonnet, and he did,” he says, blunt as always. Stede sags with relief.

“Oh! Well, that’s alright, then!”

Izzy tilts his head, tossing the cloth aside—it lands with a squelch in some dark corner.

“I don’t understand you,” Izzy says, crossing his arms. He looks defensive. He looks small. “Don’t understand any of this. Why’s everybody making such a fuss?”

Stede blinks. Izzy stares at him, waiting.

“We’re concerned, Izzy,” he says after a moment. “We, that is, the crew and myself… we didn’t realize that Ed was… was hurting you…”

He trails off awkwardly. Izzy looks, if anything, more confused than before.

“So?”

And oh, god, that makes it worse.

“So, we care about you, Izzy!” he says, aiming for gentle and landing somewhere closer to annoyed. “We don’t want you hurt! We… we wish you had come to us! For help!”

Izzy snorts, dismissive.

“Don’t see what f*cking business it is of yours, or the crew’s,” he says, and Stede has to resist the urge to stamp his feet.

“Of course it’s our business!” he says. “Especially mine! This is my bloody ship, Izzy. You’re part of my crew! And this entire time, I’ve been playing house with Edward while he… he rapes you?”

Izzy rears back like he’s been slapped.

“The f*ck are you talking about, Bonnet, he’s my f*cking alpha,” he snaps, and Stede is completely determined to respond in a calm, measured, and respectful way.

“Oh, so that just gives him the right to do whatever the hell he likes to you, does it? Bloody… choking you, and… and shooting your leg off, and making you eat your own toes and bloody ripping your c*nt in half?” Stede winces—calm and measured, indeed.

“Of course it f*cking does!” Izzy snaps, and Stede thinks there’s a hint of panic beneath it as he speaks through clenched teeth. “He’s. My. Alpha. Are you f*cking stupid? He can’t f*cking rape me, I f*cking belong to him!”

Stede’s hands flap as he tries to alleviate some of the agonizing discomfort running through his body.

“Izzy,” he says, almost pleading. “I don’t think that’s how it works…”

*

Izzy grabs hold of the shelves on either side of him, pulling himself up from the chamberpot. He should have insisted Stede bring him his leg, or at least a f*cking crutch. Then he wouldn’t be stuck here, listening to this f*cking load of bollocks. Stede moves towards him, reaching out to help and he pulls away sharply, almost sending himself tumbling to the floor, or worse yet, into the f*cking chamberpot, as if he hasn’t spent enough time today rinsing piss out of his hair. He catches himself, just barely, baring his teeth at Stede.

Just when he’d started to think maybe Stede wasn’t as much of an idiot as he seemed. Well, scratch that f*cking theory. He’s even stupider than Izzy supposed. What part of he’s my f*cking alpha is he not getting? As if Ed doesn’t have every f*cking right to do whatever he wants to Izzy. As if he could ever do anything that Izzy doesn’t f*cking deserve. He’s a good alpha. He’s fair. He’s always fair. God, he gave Izzy his f*cking mark today—he can still feel it, throbbing over his scent gland, pulling every feeling he’s ever sensed from Ed into focus at last. He doesn’t know what changed, what made Ed decide so suddenly that he’s worth it, but he intends to spend the rest of his life making sure Ed never has cause to regret it.

And now Stede f*cking Bonnet is standing in front of him, saying that his alpha, his mate—their mate, for f*ck’s sake—f*cking raped him? It’s f*cking outrageous, that’s what it is. And that’s why Izzy’s heart is beating so hard he can feel it echoing in his ears. That’s why he feels like he’s going to throw up, why the wood shelves feel so strange under his hands, like they might simply fall away. Like the whole world might just fall out from under his feet. Foot. f*ck.

Stede flaps his hands in the air, half reaching out for Izzy once again and Izzy wants to f*cking bite him. He wants to tear his f*cking heart out and bring it to Ed as a f*cking souvenir. He certainly doesn’t want to fall into Stede f*cking Bonnet’s thick, muscled arms, and he certainly is not about to f*cking cry. Far f*cking from it. He’s as calm as he’s ever been.

“Izzy, please.” Stede steps closer. Izzy’s eyes move rapidly from Stede to the door and back. He can’t make it without help—at the very least, he doesn’t know how he’s going to get Stede out of his f*cking way. Stede steps forward again, crowding Izzy and Izzy can hear himself breathing, too fast, too shallow. “Izzy, just let me help you, alright?”

Izzy laughs, short and sharp, bitter.

“You want to f*cking help me? Oh, f*ck off, you f*cking twat, you think you can f*cking swan in here and just… just say whatever the f*ck you f*cking want, absolute f*cking nonsense, just… just trash, about my f*cking alpha, your f*cking mate, and you know it would break his f*cking heart to hear you…”

Stede moves too quickly—Izzy’s using both his hands to hold himself up, he can’t even shove the bastard away, though he tries as Stede pulls him into his arms, scrabbling and pushing at his chest, struggling ineffectually.

“No! You f*cking let me go, you’ve got no f*cking right…”

“Shhh…” Stede cradles the back of Izzy’s head, pulling him in tight to the firm flesh of his chest and Izzy realizes he’s not struggling anymore. He’s not sure when he stopped, or why, but he clings to Stede’s shirt, face tucked into his chest, shaking like a f*cking leaf. Stede strokes Izzy’s hair, speaking soothingly. “It’s alright, Izzy. It’s going to be alright. You don’t have to worry about Ed, I promise. As a matter of fact, well, he already knows…”

“Already know what, mate?” Izzy’s eyes fly open and he shoves at Stede’s chest again, useless, helpless. Ed leans in the doorway, hair falling over his face, voice deliberately, terrifyingly casual, complex knot of emotions pouring through their bond telling Izzy exactly nothing. “Maybe you should fill me in.”

Chapter 8

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Ed blinks, unsure what’s woken him. He doesn’t need to piss. He doesn’t hear fighting or explosions anywhere nearby. Stede’s not shaking him, and he doesn’t smell breakfast. As a matter of fact, it’s still pitch dark. He shifts restlessly, turning to press his face into Izzy’s neck…

Izzy’s gone. He’s holding onto a f*cking pillow. He tenses, suddenly very, very awake. He knows Izzy’s nearby—he feels it. Izzy’s presence tugs at him like a magnet pulling at a compass dial. There’s something wrong. Izzy’s angry. Scared, too, his panic making Ed’s heart pound, chest suddenly hollow. He pushes himself up, listening. Over the murmur of waves against the side of the ship, he hears voices. Dim, flickering light shows through the half-closed door to the toilette. He pads silently across the room, focused, holding his breath as he reaches the door, turning his head to listen.

“…you’ve no f*cking right…”

Izzy’s voice sounds thick, like he’s on the verge of tears. He hears shuffling, the whisper of fabric, then Stede’s voice, so low he only catches snippets.

“…don’t worry about Ed, he already knows…”

Well, that’s interesting. He could hang back and hear more, of course. But he never could resist a dramatic entrance. Besides—even though he hates to admit it, Izzy’s rising panic, his need to get away, to hide, to fight, makes bile rise in the back of his throat. His skin f*cking itches with every second he waits.

He pushes the door, letting it swing open, and leans against the frame. A spark of jealousy curls in his gut as he takes in the scene—Stede holds Izzy against his chest, stroking his hair gently. Izzy’s hands are wrapped in the fabric of Stede’s shirt, clinging tight despite the sharp scent of distress filling the room, very nearly strong enough to cover the cacophonous scent of Stede’s oils.

“I already know, eh? Already know what, mate?”

The effect is instant, and more satisfying than it should be. Izzy shoves at Stede, trying to break free, though he’ll probably fall flat on his face if he manages it. Serves him right, whispers a voice that sounds more like Hornigold’s than like Ed’s. He swallows it down, crossing his arms as he waits for an explanation. Stede’s too distracted by Izzy’s attempts to break free, and his own attempts to keep him from breaking his head open on the bloody chamberpot.

“It’s… it’s f*cking nonsense, Ed, don’t f*cking listen to him,” Izzy says, breathless. His eyes are wild as he meets Ed’s gaze.

“Mm,” Ed says, noncommittal. He stalks into the space and Izzy freezes. Stede grips Izzy’s wrists, still holding him upright. “Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”

Izzy drops his gaze. Even if Ed couldn’t feel his terror through the bond, he could smell it, acrid, like lamp oil against the softer scent of Izzy’s heat, already starting to rise again. “Stede?”

Stede’s mouth twists in misery as Izzy turns to glare at him. He takes a deep breath, then turns to look at Ed, a familiar expression of determination on his face.

“Well, Ed, we have to talk about it eventually—I suppose now’s as good a time as any.”

Izzy growls, tugging at Stede’s grip on his wrists, twisting them as he tries to gain some traction.

“Shut the f*ck up, Bonnet,” he snaps. Ed rolls his eyes. He reaches past Stede, grabbing Izzy by the scruff, shaking him, not too hard, a warning. Izzy goes limp, a quiet whine rising in his throat.

“Edward!” Stede exclaims, scandalized. “Stop that! This is exactly the sort of thing I’m talking about!”

And, well, that really doesn’t explain much from Ed’s perspective. He looks pointedly at Stede’s grip on Izzy’s wrists. Stede follows his gaze, tutting irritatedly.

“That’s not the same at all!” he insists. “I just don’t want him hurting himself. It’s for his own good!”

Ed shakes Izzy again, just a little.

“So’s this,” he says. Stede makes another irritated noise, stomping his foot in frustration.

“Ed, that’s… I mean, this is just one example of… of a larger issue!”

Ed sighs. He still doesn’t really understand what Stede’s getting at, but he can see it’s important to him.

“Alright,” he says. “Let’s at least get back to the nest, yeah? No reason to stand around the f*cking bathroom—the smell’s giving me a headache anyway.”

He grabs Izzy firmly by the arm, pulling him away from Stede.

“Now, wait just a minute…!” Stede protests, but Ed’s already got Izzy off the floor, swinging him up over one shoulder like a sack of loot. Izzy yelps, startled, and Ed smacks his ass. No matter what Stede thinks, Izzy needs a firm hand. Izzy whines softly and Ed chuckles, affectionate. Needy little f*cker. He smacks him again for good measure as he turns and walks back to the bed. He can smell Izzy’s fever rising again, can feel it through their bond, too, heavy and urgent. Stede squawks in protest. Ed hears him fumbling with something before he follows, scurrying to catch up. Izzy grunts as Ed tosses him down on the bed. Ed crawls over top of him, lowering his face to breathe in Izzy’s scent.

“Edward!”

Stede’s voice startles him, and he turns his head sharply, growling. Stede just glares at him, hands on his hips.

“Ah, sorry, love,” Ed says. He runs his hands up the insides of Izzy’s thighs absently, toying with the slick gathering between the lips of his c*nt. Izzy whimpers, clutching at the bedsheets. “You were saying?”

“Well, I… I think it’s important that we all discuss, um… for god’s sake Ed, do you have to do that right now?” Stede’s face is bright red in the light of the candle he carries. He sets it down on a side table, his eyes glued to the ceiling, the floor, anywhere but Izzy’s c*nt. Ed frowns, confused.

“Gonna f*ck him in a minute,” he says simply. “Thought you wanted me to pay more attention to this kind of sh*t.”

“Well, yes, that is one, uh, one positive change that I’m glad to see you’re taking to heart,” Stede says. He steps a bit closer, holding out a washcloth. Ed just stares at it until Stede meets his gaze, glaring. “Edward, I’m perfectly aware of where your member has just been, and I would appreciate it if you’d at least give it a wipe down before you stick it anywhere else.”

Ed laughs, rolling his eyes, but he takes the cloth. Stede’s always been fussy. He doesn’t seem to understand how tough omegas are. He wipes his co*ck down thoroughly, then tosses the cloth on top of the hamper. Stede grimaces. Fussy.

“So,” Ed says conversationally as he takes hold of Izzy's thighs, pushing them apart, holding them tight. “What’s got your knickers in a knot?”

Stede gapes like a fish as Ed lowers himself over Izzy again. He rocks his hips forward, his co*ck sliding between the folds of Izzy’s c*nt, grinding against him as Izzy starts to writhe and gasp. He lets go of one thigh, reaching down to push his fingers inside, gathering Izzy’s slick, spreading it over his own prick. Izzy’s little co*ck, heavy and hard again, pink with blood, twitches against his stomach. Ed takes it in his slick coated hand and Izzy shouts—god, it really is like a real co*ck. Ed grins, squeezing it until Izzy whines, trying to pull away. Stede gasps.

“Ed, you’re hurting him!”

Ed laughs—he can hardly blame Stede. The man’s clearly spent no time whatsoever around omegas.

“Hey Iz,” he says, determined to prove his point. “Does that hurt?”

He squeezes harder, twisting as Izzy cries out, tears starting to roll down his cheeks.

“Y- yes, alpha,” Izzy gasps, sobbing as Ed repeats the motion.

“You f*cking like it, though, don’t you?” Ed says, rocking his hips again, then pulling away as Izzy tries to press down, to catch Ed’s co*ck and pull it into his hungry c*nt. He lets go of Izzy’s co*ck, pushing his legs wider as he slaps Izzy’s c*nt. Izzy wails, trying to twist away as Ed spanks his c*nt, the sound loud and wet as more slick leaks out of him. “I asked you a f*cking question, omega.”

Izzy sobs, hands gripping his own thighs, tears pouring down his face now.

“I… I like it, sir,” he chokes out. Stede makes an unsatisfied sound, but Ed’s hardly paying attention to him now. He’s enjoying his new game with Izzy.

“You’d take anything I want to give you, and you’d be f*cking grateful for it, wouldn’t you?” he says, pausing to thrust three fingers into Izzy’s c*nt, f*cking him with them roughly.

“Yes, alpha, yes, thank you!” Izzy sobs, fingers digging into the firm flesh of his own thighs, pulling them wider. Ed grabs him by the throat, pushing him down into the mattress, enjoying the desperate sounds he makes as he fights for air. With his other hand, he grabs his co*ck, guiding it to Izzy’s wet, clutching hole. Izzy screams, or tries to, as Ed f*cks into him again, pressing him down firmly, hips snapping brutally hard.

“Gonna come on my co*ck again, omega?” he demands. Izzy looks up at him, eyes glazed, face twisted in something like agony.

“Go on,” Ed commands, thrusting faster, harder as his knot starts to swell. “f*cking come, slu*t.”

Izzy’s eyes roll back, his co*ck jerking between his legs, his c*nt squirting again as he obeys, pulsating around Ed’s co*ck, grasping at his knot, milking him dry. Ed comes with a long groan, squeezing Izzy’s throat hard enough that he can feel Izzy slipping towards unconsciousness. He lets go at the last instant, and Izzy gasps, sucking in a desperate breath, c*nt clenching around Ed’s co*ck as he comes again. Ed stares down at him, at the fresh fingerprints around his throat, at his co*ck, lying limp across his stomach, sated even as he gasps for air. His omega. His.

Finally he looks up at Stede again, twisting his hands, frowning again.

“Sorry, mate—you were saying?”

Stede looks at him like he’s out of his f*cking mind.

“Ed, we really do have to talk about… well, all the rape.”

*

Izzy groans, covering his face with his hands, pulled instantly from the pleasant afterglow he’d been drifting towards.

“Christ,” he groans. “Not this sh*t again. Will you please f*cking stow it, Bonnet?”

“Hey,” Ed says. He grabs Izzy’s chin in his hand and Izzy drops his hands instantly, looking up at his alpha. “Don’t f*cking talk to your captain like that, eh?”

Izzy bristles, prepared to at least defend his right to call bullsh*t when he hears it.

“Ed, stop that!” Stede breaks in, and Izzy turns to glare at him, as much as he can with Ed’s fingers digging into his jaw, anyway. Ed sighs, exasperated—at least he and Izzy are on the same f*cking page for once. He relaxes his grip on Izzy’s face, though he doesn’t let go, and twists his body awkwardly so he can face Stede.

“Alright. That’s the second time you’ve said that. What the f*ck, mate?” Ed’s face is open as he speaks to Stede, earnest even, all too willing to entertain whatever nonsense Stede might be prepared to spew.

“Ed, don’t listen to him, it’s not worth—“ Ed’s fingers tighten on his jaw again, a warning, and he falls silent. Stede looks between him and Ed, hands flapping nervously again.

“Ed, I said it because… because that’s what I’ve seen. God, Edward, he wasn’t even conscious when we brought him back and you still…” Stede trails off, gesturing uncomfortably. Ed frowns. Izzy doesn’t know what the f*ck Stede’s talking about, and he’s not interested in finding out, either. Conscious, unconscious, it doesn’t make a f*cking bit of difference, does it? He belongs to Ed. He always has. He always will. Ed’s face clears suddenly.

“Okay, wait a minute, I think I see what’s happening. Stede, you’re worried about me f*cking Izzy when he’s out cold, and choking him and sh*t, right?” he asks, looking at Stede like he’s inviting him to brainstorm.

“And, well, ripping your knot out of him when you get bored, not to mention slapping him across the face when he was crying in the cargo hold, and trying to, uh, cut off… certain parts of his person when you felt, um, jealous?” Stede eyes Ed as though concerned that he might genuinely not remember. Ed’s shoulders slump a bit, and a growl rises in Izzy’s throat. What right does Stede have to put him through this? What f*cking business is it of his? Ed squeezes his throat again and the growl stutters to a halt in his chest. He pants quietly, Ed’s fingers digging into his flesh hard enough to bring tears to his eyes. Ed’s not even looking at him, all his attention focused on Stede. Izzy whines softly. Ed’s grip loosens infinitesimally, and Izzy relaxes into it like a caress.

“Look, I’m not saying I’ve been at my best,” Ed admits. “It’s been a sh*t couple of days, with my rut and his heat back to back. And I can see how, like, without the context, you could call some of those things, uh…”

“Rape,” Stede supplies helpfully.

“Yeah,” Ed says, grimacing a little. “But, Stede, love, you’re forgetting one key point. I’m his alpha!”

“That’s what I f*cking told him!” Izzy exclaims, then whines quietly as Ed squeezes his jaw, then grips his entire face, pushing one side of it down into the bed firmly. He goes limp, whimpering softly, letting Ed hold him pinned, throat exposed.

“Edward!” he hears Stede gasp, the simpering prick.

“What?” Ed asks, sounding very like he’s been caught raiding Stede’s marmalade stash again. After a moment, he releases Izzy’s face with a muttered “Fine.”

Izzy gasps, catching his breath even as he tilts his head back further, showing his submission.

“Look,” Ed says, making yet another attempt to make this f*cking idiot understand. “I’m Izzy’s alpha. How can I rape my own omega, huh?”

A moment of silence, punctuated by a deep sigh as Stede steeples his fingers, bringing them up to rest at the bridge of his nose.

“Edward, I think you both have some very serious misunderstandings of what consent entails,” he says, sounding as tired as Izzy feels,

“Consent?” Edward snorts, incredulous. “Stede. He’s my omega.”

Izzy bites his lip hard to keep from interjecting with his own opinion of all this f*cking new age, touchy-feely dreck. Another growl rises in his chest, unbidden, and Ed wraps a hand around his throat this time, ignoring Stede’s squeak of protest.

“Ed, he’s still a whole person,” Stede says, making as little sense as ever. “He’s his own person.”

Ed snorts again. At least he’s not entertaining this nonsense. Stede takes a breath, clearly not prepared to give up on a losing argument, and if that’s not him all over, Izzy doesn’t know what is.

“Alright,” Stede says, and something in his tone makes Izzy nervous. “He’s your omega. You’re his alpha. I’m not arguing with you about that. But Edward, how would you feel if you killed him?”

Ed’s hand squeezes reflexively and Izzy forces down the urge to struggle—struggling always makes it worse.

“What?” Ed’s voice is unnaturally flat and Izzy squirms, against his own better instincts. “The f*ck do you mean, if I killed him? f*cking… how the f*ck would that happen?”

“Ed,” Stede says gently. He reaches out to rest his hand over Ed’s on Izzy’s throat. “Look at him. You very nearly killed him today.”

And Izzy wants to argue, wants to tell Stede to mind his own f*cking business and stop meddling in things that don’t f*cking concern him, but Ed’s hand around his throat is too tight. Ed looks down at him, confusion radiating through the bond, and dawning fear. Izzy grips Ed’s wrist, trying to shake his head, to tell him it’s fine, it doesn’t matter anyway, that even if he did f*cking kill him, it would still be better than anything Izzy ever imagined he could have—a fatherless omega born in a f*cking brothel, bought by Benjamin f*cking Hornigold when he was barely sixteen? He never expected to live past twenty, for f*ck’s sake. To have grown old not just as a free man, but mated to the most feared pirate, the most powerful alpha in the Caribbean? To have wielded a sword and fought by his side, killed for him, bled for him… It’s a fantasy. A f*cking fairytale. And nothing Ed does can ever change that. Dying for him would just be one more f*cking honour.

Ed’s hand slowly relaxes on his throat and he breathes in harshly, trying to speak. He starts to cough instead, and Ed’s eyes widen, horrified.

“That’s not… I didn’t…” Ed stares at Izzy like he’s never seen him before. Izzy wants to scream, to fight, to tie Bonnet to a f*cking anchor and throw him overboard. He tries to breathe, coughing again.

“Edward, why hadn’t Izzy ever had an org*sm before today?”

Ed looks at Stede again, stricken.

“What? That’s not true,” he says, turning back to Izzy. “Izzy, mate, tell him that’s not true.”

And Izzy thinks he’ll never forgive himself for hesitating just a moment too long. Ed’s face falls. He looks so f*cking young.

“Oh,” Ed says, voice too high, too breathy. “f*ck.”

*

It can’t be true. It doesn’t make any sense. Ed’s been f*cking Izzy for years. Back with Hornigold, every alpha on the ship would have a go from time to time, when Hornigold thought they all needed some R&R, or when he didn’t feel like taking care of Izzy’s heat himself. Sure, it freaked him out the first time he saw Izzy strapped to the breeding bench, arms and legs pinned, mouth held open by the special gag Hornigold kept on hand—it looked f*cked up. Hornigold noticed him hanging back, of course. He remembers the weight of the captain’s hand on his shoulder, the smile on his face. He’d felt caught out, trapped. Thought he might be in trouble himself, at first. Hornigold didn’t like it when his crew didn’t enjoy his little gifts. But he’d seemed almost sympathetic as he explained it to Ed.

“I know it looks rough, but you have a lot to learn about omegas, Mister Teach. They’re insatiable, you know, especially during a heat. The bench, the gag, it’s all for his comfort, I promise you—this way he doesn’t have to work to take all of you. He can just relax and enjoy himself.”

Ed had looked over at Izzy dubiously, at his clenched hands, the tears streaming down his face, the way he heaved for breath every time someone pulled out of his throat. Hornigold laughed.

“He’s just overwhelmed, lad. If you don’t believe me, try his c*nt for yourself—it’s dripping wet, I promise you. An omega’s c*nt can’t lie. It’s the only part of them you can trust…”

He’d never questioned it after that. Questioned every other rule Hornigold ever taught him—rewrote piracy to suit himself, to be his own kind of captain, but never thought twice about what he learned about alphas and omegas. He got rid of that f*cking breeding bench, at least, but that was because Izzy was his. Only his. Izzy’d wept when he found Ed standing over the shattered remnants of the f*cking thing, and, oh god… Ed had grabbed him by the throat, pinned him to the wall.

“There’ll be no more of that sh*t, you hear me? You’re mine, Iz—no one else f*cking touches you.”

Izzy slid to the floor when he let go, arms wrapped around himself, sobbing. Ed could never quite make sense of Izzy’s response before—he knew Izzy was disappointed, knew how much he’d loved being f*cked by the whole crew, so that part made sense at least. But what never quite fit was the way Izzy pressed his face into Ed’s leg, clinging to him, as he said, over and over again, “Thank you, thank you, alpha, captain, Eddie, thank you…”

Ed had put it out of his mind. Izzy never tried anything with anyone else on the crew, even during his heats, and all Ed really needed was his obedience. He’d never bothered to worry about the contradictions, the tensions between what Hornigold said and what Izzy did, not the way he’d worry at other problems, lying awake at night until a solution came into focus. And now…

Now it feels like Stede’s handed him a key to a puzzle he didn’t know needed solving. So much of the way Izzy acts never made sense. Ed put it down to him being an omega, even if he was an unusually clever one. Capricious. Unreliable. God.

He lets go of Izzy’s throat like he’s been burnt, watching Izzy choke and gasp as he tries to speak. Not being dramatic. He just couldn’t breathe.

And the way he used to cry when Hornigold let the whole crew take turns…

“Eddie,” Izzy manages to gasp at last. “Eddie, don’t…”

“Oh, f*ck,” Ed says again. “Stede, f*ck, I think I’m gonna be sick…”

*

Stede scrambles off the bed, casting about for something, anything for Ed to throw up in—the bed, and Izzy for that matter, have both seen more than enough bodily fluids today. He grabs a spare chamberpot and rushes back to the nest just in time to see Ed press his hand to his mouth, body spasming as he spits a mouthful of bile onto Izzy’s stomach.

“Oh, f*ck, I’m sorry,” he gasps, hand still pressed uselessly over his lips. “I’m so f*cking sorry…”

Stede thrusts the chamberpot into Ed’s hands and hurries to the bathroom for some towels. At least the vibe suggests that he can probably trust Ed not to rape Izzy while he’s gone, though he’s less confident about that than he’d like. He knows that any adult relationship is likely to run into some bumpy patches—he’s sure he has more than a few habits Ed would like him to break, and he doesn’t want to be unfair, but repeatedly and casually raping their first mate really does seem a little extreme!

Well. At least they seem to be talking now. Though he’s not at all convinced that either of them can be counted on for genuine honesty. Ed may have gotten a little better at talking it through in the months they’ve been together, but he still seems utterly blinkered where Izzy is involved. And as for Izzy, Stede’s never seen a more recalcitrant, infuriating little man.

He grabs a few towels and fills a basin with water. Izzy may be infuriating, self-destructive, and utterly incapable of having an open, mature conversation about his relationship with his alpha, but he can at least be all those things and not covered in Ed’s puke.

*

“f*ck, f*ck, f*ck,” Ed mutters, spitting bile into the chamberpot again. If nothing else, Izzy's glad Stede grabbed an empty one. He tries not to move too much—it’s not like he’s going anywhere with Ed’s knot still locked in his c*nt, but he can at least keep things from getting any worse.

God, what a f*cking laugh. As if anything he’s ever done has ever stopped things getting worse.

Ed spits again, finally setting the pot down, breathing hard as he tries to get ahold of himself. Izzy recognizes the look on his face all too well, would know it even if he didn’t feel the sick, shivery energy radiating through the bond—he’s panicking. Of course he’s f*cking panicking. Stupid f*cking Stede Bonnet.

“f*ck, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Ed mutters tonelessly. He grabs a piece of fabric from the side of the nest and Izzy holds up his hands urgently, still trying not to get any f*cking bile on the bed beneath him.

“Not the nest, Ed, for f*ck’s sake!” he says, pleading. Ed stops, hand hovering over his stomach.

“Well I’ve got to use f*cking something, I can’t just leave you like this!” he insists. Izzy rolls his eyes.

“Ed you f*cking pissed in my eyes earlier, a little puke isn’t gonna kill me. Stede’s getting a f*cking towel, anyway.”

Ed’s face crumples and Izzy winces. f*ck, he’s always been rubbish at this.

“Ed, it’s f*cking fine. I’m f*cking fine. Bonnet doesn’t know what the f*ck he’s talking about. You’re my f*cking alpha, Eddie. It doesn’t matter what you do to me. Just, don’t f*cking listen to him, alright?”

Ed looks away. He doesn’t look much happier than he did before. If anything, the unease Izzy feels from him has gotten worse. He tries to project calm, forcing down the part of him that’s panicking, terrified Ed will leave him, terrified that he won’t be able to protect Ed if the crew decide to kill him, terrified that one of these days Ed really will kill him, that he’ll finally hurt him so badly that he won’t be able to recover and Ed won’t even f*cking notice, he’ll leave Izzy alone to bleed to death in the dark, and who the hell will look after Ed when he’s gone?

Ed’s face twists, agonized—f*ck, for all Izzy’s wanted a real bond for f*cking years, dreamed about it, would have done anything, anything at all to be worthy of it, he never imagined it would be like this. He can’t f*cking hide anything from Ed like this, can’t shield him from all the f*cking nonsense going on in his own head.

“I—“ Ed stops, clears his throat. “On… on Hornigold’s ship, when he’d… when we’d all…”

He trails off, shivering. He can’t look Izzy in the eye.

“I thought you liked it. Thought you wanted it.”

He glances at Izzy, then looks away again. Izzy squeezes his lips tight. They’re not having this f*cking conversation. Not now. Not ever. Certainly not when he’s flat on his back with a knot in his c*nt, doing his damnedest to keep from getting Ed’s puke all over the first real nest he’s ever built in his life.

“You didn’t, though, did you?”

And maybe that’s all it’ll take. All he has to do is tell Ed that he wanted it, that he liked being strapped down and f*cked by every alpha on Hornigold’s ship, that Hornigold was right about every despicable f*cking thing he ever said about omegas, and this will all end. Things can just go back to normal—Ed will stop looking at him like it f*cking hurts. He takes a breath.

“Don’t f*cking lie to me, omega,” Ed snaps, command irresistible. Not that Izzy doesn’t f*cking try. He bites his lips, a whine building in his chest. Ed grabs his chin again, forcing him not to look away. He grits his teeth, digging his fingers into the muscles of his own thighs as he fights for control. He doesn’t have a f*cking chance.

“…no. No, I didn’t f*cking like it,” he snarls. Ed swallows hard, looking like he might throw up again and f*ck Izzy hopes he grabs the f*cking chamberpot first this time.

“So, every time the alphas… every time we all f*cked you… that was rape.”

That awful flat tone again, and f*ck, Ed still doesn’t understand.

“No!” Izzy insists. He grabs one of Ed’s hands, squeezing it in his, and f*ck that feels bold, he doesn’t think they’ve ever held hands before. From the look on Ed’s face, eyes wide and shocked as he looks down at their interlinked fingers, Ed doesn’t think so either. “I mean, the rest of them, maybe. Jack and Hornigold and all the others, but not you, Eddie. You’ve been my alpha from the moment I first laid eyes on you. You’ve never done anything to me you didn’t have a perfect f*cking right to!”

Ed stares at him in mute horror, and f*ck, Izzy knows he’s f*cking this up, but he doesn’t know how else to explain. He always assumed Ed just understood, that even their f*cking bastard bond was enough for him to at least know Izzy was his to do with as he pleased.

“Ed, please. You’ve always been a good alpha to me. You have. You made me your first mate! You… you let me earn your mark! f*ck, you were the one who destroyed that f*cking breeding bench, you tore it apart with your bare hands, you never made me f*ck another alpha again!”

“Because I was f*cking jealous! Not to f*cking protect you, or to f*cking get f*cking revenge for you! Because I was angry and possessive and the thought of all the other alphas you’d f*cked made me want to f*cking punish you—“

“It doesn’t f*cking matter! You still did it, I was yours already, anyway!” Izzy squeezes Ed’s hand as tight as he can, willing him to understand. “Eddie, please, I love you…”

“Ah, right, sorry to interrupt.”

Izzy closes his eyes and, through a very concerted effort, manages not to simply scream.

“It’s just, we really should get Izzy cleaned up a bit before you continue this, uh, discussion…”

*

Ed looks away as Stede wipes the sick off Izzy’s stomach. He should offer to do it himself, he thinks—it’s his f*cking mess. The idea of touching Izzy more than he has to right now makes his stomach twist. He’s afraid he’ll just f*cking puke again if he tries to take over. So he doesn’t watch as Stede mops up the bile with a clean, dry towel, before wiping Izzy down with another, warm and damp and fragrant with some oil that survived his temper tantrum earlier. Stede mutters as he works, stupid, comforting nonsense, calling Izzy darling and sweetheart and all the f*cking names that used to be reserved for Ed. Izzy doesn’t even growl at him. Stede dries him off with yet another f*cking towel, and at this rate they’ll have to make port just to find a f*cking laundry.

He can feel Izzy watching him—hell, he can feel Izzy panicking through that f*cking bond, desperation and urgency and helplessness all tied up with the constant ebb and flow of his f*cking heat. Izzy loves him. Of course he f*cking does. Ed’s always known it. Taken it for granted, really. Made it so much easier to use him, just another f*cking tool in Blackbeard’s arsenal. He’s never said it before, though. Ed wishes he hadn’t. Not now, for f*ck’s sake. Maybe not ever. He doesn’t know what to do with Izzy’s f*cking love now that he’s named it.

“Alright, darling, how about a little sip of water?”

Stede holds a glass to Izzy’s lips. Ed wants to grab it and throw it across the f*cking room. He doesn’t even know why—maybe he wants to be the one looking after his f*cking omega. Maybe he wants Stede to look after him instead. It’s not like he hasn’t been doing the f*cking work. What’s Izzy even done other than spread his legs and f*cking…

God, that sounds like f*cking Hornigold again. He squeezes his eyes shut, breathing through his nose. He doesn’t even know where to start untangling what he actually believes from all the sh*t he learned from that bastard. Should have started years ago, probably. But then he’d have had to deal with the fact that, no matter what Izzy says now, every time he’d stuck his dick in him, every f*cking rut, every heat, had been… f*ck. How the hell can Izzy love him after all that? It reminds him of an old crew mate of theirs—Hans? Franz? Something like that, anyway. Poor bastard got taken off the dock in Stockholm, press ganged. By the time they caught up to the ship that took him, they had him believing he was one of them, fighting alongside them, even against his old crew, like… like some sort of f*cking Stockholm syndrome. Of course Izzy thinks he f*cking loves him. He doesn’t f*cking know any better. And now Ed’s only gone and f*cking bonded him, trapped him when he’s at his most f*cking vulnerable, too weak to even break it and survive.

“Ed?”

Stede’s looking at him, so f*cking concerned, so f*cking hesitant, like he doesn’t know Ed at all. Ed supposes he doesn’t. Ed’s not sure he knows himself.

“Have a bit of water, Ed.”

Stede holds the glass out to him and Ed resists the impulse to grab it and throw it across the f*cking room again. He’s so f*cking angry. He’s angry with Stede for looking after Izzy instead of him, and he’s angry with Izzy for never f*cking telling him the truth, and he’s angry with himself for… for lots of things, really, and he doesn’t know why they haven’t just tossed him the f*ck overboard yet, and god, Izzy loves him, Izzy loves him, and if that’s not proof enough the omega’s not in his right f*cking mind, because Ed sure as hell doesn’t love him back. He loves Stede—he’s in love with Stede and he doesn’t feel anything like that for Izzy. Izzy’s like… like an arm or a leg, and, oh f*ck, Izzy’s f*cking leg…

“Ed?” Stede says again, and he’s still holding out that stupid f*cking glass of water.

Ed takes it, and drinks.

Chapter 9

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Jim sits with their arms folded, legs stretched across the corridor, glaring into thin air. Olu sticks his head out from their room, then sighs. He steps over their legs and settles across from them. A moment later, Archie sticks her head out, too.

“Oh, hey,” she says, smiling nervously when Jim looks up at her. “What we doing? Hall party? Had one of those on my old ship once! It was an okay time! I mean, probably a bit too much rape by your standards. I just hung out by the drinks table, well, I mean, it was more a torture rack with some drinks balanced on it but…”

“Arch, why don’t you go get some sleep,” Olu says pointedly. Archie just smiles, oblivious.

“Aw, no thanks. Vibes are too weird. Think I’ll just hang with you guys!”

Olu’s sigh seems to flow up through his entire body.

“Alright, cool,” he says, radiating exhaustion. Archie just smiles again, satisfied.

Olu nudges Jim’s leg with his foot. They growl quietly, and he waits. They pause, then grimace.

“Sorry, amor,” they mutter, turning their head to glare at the floor instead of the wall. Olu says nothing. Jim shifts, uncomfortable. Archie starts to hum, and Olu and Jim both turn to look up at her.

“Oops!” she says, hooking her thumbs in her belt. “Sorry. Awkward silence time, eh? I can do that.”

She looks away and starts to whistle. Jim snorts despite themself, a little smile playing over their face. Olu smiles too, weary but affectionate. He nudges Jim’s leg again and this time they open their arms. He pushes himself away from the opposite wall, settling with his head on their chest. Archie sits down across from them, knocking her feet against theirs. They laugh again, quietly, then fall silent. Olu knocks his head against Jim's chest gently.

“Come on,” he says. “Out with it.”

Jim growls again softly, tightening their arms around him.

“f*ck,” they say finally. “Look, I grew up in the convent, okay? But that doesn’t mean I didn’t see how things were. The pendejos who killed my family, all of them were alphas. And when we’d go into town, I saw all that sh*t. The way they treated omegas, the way everybody treated omegas… I f*cking hated them. I used to beg God in my prayers every night to make me a beta, so I’d never…”

They trail off, pressing their face to the top of Olu’s head, scenting him. They run their fingers over his bond bite as he begins to purr quietly.

“And when I f*cking presented as an alpha, dios, Olu, I thought I was a f*cking monster. I swore I’d never touch an omega, and I lived by that for a long time.”

They pause again, and Archie looks between them and Olu, frowning.

“Yeah, but Olu’s an omega!” she says helpfully. “I’ve seen him in heat! Remember, two months ago, when he started smelling so good and you and me both—“

“Archie, Jesus, I remember! f*ck, I know Olu’s an omega, you don’t need to remind me!” Jim hisses, glancing up and down the corridor as though someone might be listening. “I… look, I just mean, it took me a long time to realize things didn’t have to be that way, okay? And I just… I think Izzy deserves better than that hijo de puta…”

Olu pushes in closer, nuzzling into their throat until they tilt their chin up so he can lick their bond mark.

“I mean, I don’t think any of us disagree with you,” he says, resting his head on their shoulder again. “But it’s not up to us, is it? It’s up to Izzy.”

Jim growls again, dissatisfied even as Olu’s soft purring lulls them towards sleep.

“Look,” he says. “I’m not saying our lives have been perfect. But in a lot of ways, we were lucky. We got to figure our own sh*t out, and we never had to hurt each other to do it -- at least, not like that... I’m not saying you have to like it. But I do think Izzy deserves a chance to figure out what he wants. And I don’t know what Ed’s been through, but I think maybe he needs a chance, too. For Izzy’s sake, at least.”

Jim can’t quite hold their growl back, even as they breathe in Olu’s scent, letting it soothe them.

“Fine,” they mutter at last. “For Izzy’s sake.”

Archie grins, crawling across the corridor to wrap her arms around Olu and Jim both.

“So no mutiny?” she asks earnestly. “‘Cause I was really looking forward to hearing the end of the story Captain Bonnet’s been reading us, you know, whenever he’s done trying to make Captain Blackbeard stop raping Izzy.”

Olu sighs yet again—that seems to happen a lot with Archie around, he reflects. It’s a miracle he hasn’t hyperventilated yet.

“No, Archie,” he says. “No mutiny.”

Jim hums, noncommittal.

“For now,” they add. “No mutiny for now.”

*

Ed seems… withdrawn. Under the circ*mstances that’s hardly surprising—if it had happened a few hours ago, when Stede first raised the issue of his frankly shabby treatment of Izzy, Stede wouldn’t have been shocked in the least. But up until now, Ed seemed almost willfully oblivious to his effect on his omega. Much as Stede would like to think Ed’s simply had time to think about his actions and come to the well-reasoned conclusion that him being Izzy’s alpha doesn’t excuse the sheer volume of sexual assault that has apparently defined their relationship so far, it does seem a bit much to hope for at this point.

Izzy seems tense too, though that’s both perfectly in character and more than appropriate given the day he’s had. He keeps his eyes on Ed as Stede cleans him up, occasionally whining softly, begging for his alpha’s attention. Ed looks resolutely at anything but Izzy, staring up at the ceiling or down at the pillows Izzy’s tucked tidily into his nest, or even through the gauzy curtains separating the bed from the dimly lit room beyond. Stede, as he so often does during times of crisis, keeps up a steady flow of nervous babble. He’s certain that he’s driving Izzy to distraction. He’s driving himself to distraction, for that matter! But then, Izzy seems more than distracted enough as it is.

“There we are, darling!” Stede says, internally begging himself to simply shut up, for the love of god, shut up. “Nice and clean! Now, how about a little sip of water for me?”

He coos approvingly as Izzy sips, barely taking his eyes off Ed. And as for Edward… well, if he weren’t balls deep in Izzy’s c*nt, Stede would wonder if he even remembered they were in the same room! Then again, if Ed really didn’t remember Izzy was there, he probably wouldn’t be making such an impressive show of ignoring him!

“Right, you too, Edward! Little sip!” he finds himself saying, insufferably, as he holds the glass out to Ed. The silence stretches painfully as Ed doesn’t respond. “Ed?”

Ed blinks, startled, a statue springing to life. He takes the glass from Stede as if in a trance, sipping the water and handing it back. Stede feels just about ready to climb out of his own f*cking skin.

“So!” he trills, more out of dread at the ongoing silence than from any real desire to speak. “You two seemed to be having a nice chat when I came in! What was all that about then?”

Izzy, unsurprisingly, growls.

“Why don’t you mind your own f*cking business, Bonnet, how about that?”

And Stede is beginning to feel familiar enough with Izzy’s little tells that he suspects there’s more fear than anger behind that growl, but…

“Mind your tongue, dog, that’s still your f*cking captain,” Ed snarls, and Izzy subsides with a whimper.

“Edward!” Stede chides. “Don’t talk to him like that. This is stressful enough for all of us!”

“I don’t need you to f*cking defend me,” Izzy snaps.

“Well, someone’s got to, and apparently it’s not going to be your bloody alpha!” Stede snipes back. Izzy’s mouth shuts with an audible click, and Stede can’t help but revel in his victory for a moment. Izzy folds in on himself, shrinking into his nest. Ed says nothing. Stede’s little victory turns to ash in his mouth. He feels like a bully.

“I’m sorry,” he says, wishing not for the first time that he had ever learned to think before he spoke. “I shouldn’t have…”

“Leave it,” Izzy mutters. Stede, for once, bites his tongue. He’s done enough damage.

He shifts awkwardly, not sure what to do with himself. Cuddling up with Izzy would feel presumptuous to say the least. He pushes himself towards the wall instead, trying not to disturb Izzy’s nesting materials too much, and settles with his feet stretched in front of him. Izzy huffs, discontent, though Stede can’t be sure if that’s because he’s too close or too far away or for some other reason, totally unrelated to his presence or absence. Given what a hash he’s already made of things, asking hardly seems appropriate. He closes his eyes. He’ll just rest, he thinks, for a few minutes, no longer.

*

Bonnet starts snoring almost immediately. Of course. Bastard could probably sleep through a bloody raid in the next room. Ed’s still not looking at him, the knot in Izzy's c*nt the only point of contact between them. Izzy shivers, the night air sending a chill through him. He wishes Stede had curled up close again. It had been… nice… having someone hold him even when the fever wasn’t at its peak. Made him feel safe, and isn’t that f*cking stupid. Embarrassing. Soft.

Well, he’s only gone and f*cked it up now, hasn’t he, just like he f*cks up everything.

Bonnet’s candle flickers outside the curtains, burning down. A waste. A bloody hazard. Izzy wishes he could light another. He doesn’t want to spend the night like this, alone in the dark. It feels too much like his nightmares.

He stares at the ceiling, feeling Ed’s knot slowly shrink. God, what the f*ck was he thinking, telling Ed he loved him? He’s not bloody stupid enough to think Ed might say it back, even out of pity. And now they’re stuck together for who knows how long, waiting out Izzy’s f*cking heat.

Unless Ed just decides to leave, of course. There’s nothing holding him here. He could just walk away, leave Izzy to shake and sweat and die alone in the dark.

The candle flickers one last time, guttering to nothingness. A few feet away, Bonnet snores evenly. Izzy stares into empty space, listening for the quiet, familiar rhythm of Ed’s breath.

When Ed’s knot slips out of his c*nt, he feels a strange surge of loss. Maybe this is what every omega feels when their alpha’s knot comes loose on its own—it’s not as though he’s had much chance to experience it before this. Hard to feel much of anything beyond the pain of a knot ripping its way out of his c*nt, or his ass for that matter.

Whatever other omegas might feel after they’re f*cked, though, he suspects it’s not this. The hollow feeling in his belly sickens him—it f*cking terrifies him. What’s worse, he can’t even tell where his feelings start and Ed’s begin.

Ed’s moving as soon as he’s free. He scrambles off the bed backwards, not even looking back at Izzy before he grabs his leathers, still piled in a heap by the bed. He pulls them on, quick, efficient. Izzy swallows, his voice catching in his chest the first time he tries to speak. Bonnet, of course, just keeps snoring, oblivious, and Izzy feels a surge of pity for the bastard’s poor widow—he sleeps with the peace of a man who’s never in his life woken in the wee hours to feed a crying baby.

Ed walks away from the bed without so much as a backwards glance.

“Ed,” Izzy manages, and then, “Eddie!”

Ed pauses, almost invisible in the darkened room, another shadow among shadows.

“Bye, Iz,” he says softly. And then with the touch of some hidden mechanism, he’s gone, disappearing into one of Bonnet’s f*cking secret passages. Izzy’s stomach drops. The mark on his neck throbs, resonating with… finality. Izzy’s heart pounds. He pushes himself forward. He can’t even see where Bonnet put his f*cking leg.

f*ck it.

He shoves himself off the bed, crossing his arms over his chest to cushion his fall. He lands with a painful thump, the wound in his c*nt opening again, bones aching. There’s no time to worry about it. He can’t follow Ed into the passage, but he knows where he’s headed. He’ll take one of the dinghies. Izzy just has to get there first.

He drags himself across the floor, cursing quietly as he feels the long cut over his chest and belly open, too. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is getting to Ed.

*

Ed can feel Izzy’s panic. He tries to push it out of his mind as he feels his way through the passage. He’s pretty sure this one leads above deck. He just has to make it to the dinghy before Izzy does. Shouldn’t be too hard. How fast can a heat-addled omega with one bloody leg move anyway?

The thought of Izzy’s leg makes him a bit sick. But then, that’s why he’s doing this, isn’t it? It’s for Izzy’s own good. He’ll be fine now, Ed’s sure of it. There was barely a trace of that sickly, off scent left after the last time they’d…

That thought makes Ed a little sick, too.

It’s fine. Izzy will be fine. One of the other alphas can see him through the rest of his heat. The bond mark will fade. He can even find a new alpha, if he wants to. Jim, maybe. They seem…. Nice. Well. Murderous. But they’re all pirates, for f*ck’s sake. Murderous is practically in the job description. He’s never heard them so much as raise their voice to Olu. That’d be good for Izzy, probably. Someone gentle.

Ed pushes another mechanism in the wall and the passage slides open. The night air is cool and damp on his face.

He closes the passage behind him, wishing he’d stopped by the galley first. But then, running into Stede’s crew isn’t particularly appealing at the moment. He doubts they’d be particularly understanding, though the promise of his impending absence might buy him a little good will from the right person at least. Probably not Jim.

f*ck it. The emergency rations they keep in the dinghies will be enough to keep him going until he makes port.

He glances around, making sure there’s no one in sight. The deck seems deserted.

Apparently without Izzy to set a night watch rotation, there just isn’t one. He suppresses a burst of annoyance at that. Not his problem anymore. At the moment, it’s to his advantage.

He creeps to the dinghy, reaching for the ropes to lower it to the water.

Behind him, someone clears their throat pointedly. He spins around, eyes wild. Jim stares at him, eyes glittering cold in the moonlight. A knife moves through their fingers, smooth and easy as a little fish through shallow water. It glints, perfectly sharpened edge almost glowing, unnaturally bright on the shadowy deck.

“Hey, pendejo,” they say. “Going somewhere?”

*

Izzy's barely outside the door to the captains' cabin, precariously balanced on one leg, clinging to the doorknob, when a hand closes on his arm. He shouts, startled, and falls back. Strong arms catch him, lifting him up easily.

“f*ck me, mate, you weigh even less than last time I picked you up!” Archie says cheerfully. “I mean, I guess that was before we chopped your leg off, so…”

“Archie…” Olu says in a tone that suggests he's very near giving up on this particular fixer-upper. Jim stands just behind him, arms crossed, eyes narrowed.

“What happened?” they ask. “Is that hijo de puta hurting you?”

Izzy twists in Archie's arms, peering down the corridor as though he might be able to stare through the walls, up onto the deck, to find Ed before it's too late.

“What?” he says, distracted. “No! I just… I fancied a bit of fresh air…”

God, he's always been a sh*t liar but that was pathetic even by his standards. Jim and Olu exchange a look. Olu nods minutely, agreement, or maybe permission, and Jim grimaces.

“f*ck. Sorry about this, viejo,” they say, genuinely remorseful, and then their body language shifts, shoulders square, jaw set as they step in front of Olu. “Tell me what's wrong, omega.”

Izzy whines, digging his fingers into his arms as he tries to resist the compulsion of an alpha’s command in the middle of his f*cking heat.

“Eddie… he’s gone,” he chokes, words tumbling out of him despite himself. “He's leaving. Gotta… gotta stop him. Go with him… anything.”

Jim's face could be carved of marble, perfectly still. Izzy whines again, wriggling uselessly in Archie's arms.

“Alpha, please,” he begs. “Let go, I have to…”

“God damn it,” Jim mutters. “I'll take care of it.”

“Don't kill him!” Olu calls as they stalk down the companionway. They throw up a hand in irritated acknowledgment.

“Ugh, fine, I won't kill him!” they groan and then they're gone. Izzy whimpers, struggling against Archie's hold on him again. Olu reaches out, laying a tentative hand on Izzy's shoulder.

“Right,” he says. “I think it's about time you and me had a chat. Omega to omega.”

*

Ed takes a step back, eyes tracking the knife in Jim’s hand warily. The fact that it’s not in his throat yet seems promising, but from the look in their eyes, he wouldn’t be surprised if they just prefer killing him more up close and personal. He doesn’t know what the f*ck they’re playing at. Either they want him dead—and in that case, he doesn’t know why he’s still standing here instead of bleeding out on the deck—or they should be more than happy to see the back of him.

“I’m going,” he says, gesturing to the dinghy as if they might need clarification. They sneer at him, unimpressed, and he bristles. He knows he’s not f*cking perfect. As a matter of fact, he’s pretty sure he’s a f*cking monster, but that’s nothing new. He’s known that since the moment he pulled the rope tight around his father’s neck and held it until the bastard stopped twitching. “Thought you’d be glad to be rid of me.”

Jim exhales slowly, hand flexing around the handle of their knife.

“So that’s it, huh?” they say, contempt radiating off them. “Dios, you really don’t give a f*ck about him, do you?”

Ed’s jaw twitches. He wishes they’d drop the f*cking knife. He could really use a fight. A cold smile plays over Jim’s face—if Ed didn’t know better, he’d think they could read his f*cking mind.

“I promised Olu I wouldn’t kill you,” they say. “But I never said anything about not kicking your ass.”

The knife clatters to the deck and they shift their weight, light on the balls of their feet, arms at their sides as they tilt their chin up, a challenge.

“Come on, old man. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

*

Izzy’s eyes dart nervously as Archie sets him down on the bed she shares with Jim and Olu. Most of the time he has trouble even remembering she’s an alpha. Now, with his senses heightened by heat and his fever rising again, it's impossible to forget, especially lying on her bed, her scent mingling with Jim’s and Olu’s, thick and overwhelming. He whines, shrinking in on himself. She steps back, glancing at Olu.

“I’ll just leave you to it, then,” she says, magnanimous as always. “Maybe pop up on deck and make sure nobody’s getting too stabbed!”

Olu groans as the urgency of Izzy’s whine kicks up a notch.

“Great,” he says. “Thanks, Arch.”

She disappears into the hall, closing the door behind her. Izzy watches Olu carefully, the tension between the heavy scent of alphas not his own and the underlying sense that he’s surrounded by pack, safe and protected, making him pant uncomfortably. His c*nt starts to ache as the fever rises and he looks away as Olu moves to sit next to him. He rubs his legs together, desperate for some relief. He wants Ed. Hell, even Bonnet would do. He wants…

“You want to get back to your nest, eh?”

Olu gives him a knowing look, unphased by Izzy’s unfocused glare.

“Trust me, man, I get it,” he says, leaning back against the wall. “There are just a few things I want to clear up, yeah, and then we’ll get you right back, safe and sound.”

Izzy growls, irritated. He can feel his heartbeat in his ears, or maybe that’s Ed’s. He’s pretty sure Ed’s still on the ship, at least. He focuses, trying to pick up more detail, heat making him feel too needy, vulnerable.

“So,” Olu says. “You and Ed’ve been together a while, eh? You ever been with another alpha?”

Izzy laughs, short and sharp. What kind of question is that?

“The f*ck kind of question is that?” he snaps. “Course I f*cking have. Loads. Don’t even know how many, before he was captain. Ed put a stop to all that, soon as he could.”

He holds his head up, proud, ready to defend his alpha. Olu nods thoughtfully, like Izzy’s confirming a hypothesis.

“And your first heat? Was that with Ed?”

Izzy winces, chin tucking as he shrinks again. It’s none of Olu’s business. It’s none of anybody’s business.

“No,” he mutters, resentful. Olu just waits, polite but expectant. Izzy pushes himself back into the corner, tucking his legs up, wrapping his arms around them. “It was Ben. My… our captain. Before Ed.”

Izzy doesn’t think about it much. Why would he? It’s over and done with, just like Ben Hornigold. He’d been just about sixteen, near as he could figure. Maybe younger, but not by much. His mother’d been gone four or five winters by then. They’d let him stay on at the brothel, doing odd jobs, bringing in firewood, cooking and cleaning a little, even helping the bitches whelp when they were unlucky enough to get an alpha who wouldn’t wear a lambskin or pull out before he knotted. Sixteen was late to present, but Izzy’d been small for his age. Scrawny. Always f*cking cold.

He’d started to hope he might be a beta. The whor*s who remembered his mother hoped it, too. Another year or so and they’d have set him loose to find himself a trade. There was a winemaker in the village who was always kind, who smiled at Izzy when he came to pick up the madam’s orders. Izzy’d thought the man might take him on as a servant, maybe even let him apprentice if he worked hard and well. It was the kind of life his mother used to dream of for him. She’d pointed out the other betas whelped in the brothel, serving ale in taverns, herding goats in the streets.

“You play your cards right, lad, and that’ll be you some day,” she'd say, ruffling his hair with her rough, care-worn fingers..

She’d scrimped and saved, trying to keep back enough for him to pay for an apprenticeship. His hand goes to his throat automatically, but it’s not there, of course. He left the ring tucked into the pocket of his waistcoat when he stripped off in the cargo hold. She’d been so proud when she gave it to him. No master in the city would turn away an apprentice offering such a fine gift in trade.

He’s glad she died before he presented. It would have f*cking killed her, anyway.

He didn’t know what the f*ck was happening when his first heat began. At first he thought it was just a fever. He’d had those before, of course, though none that felt quite like this. He’d thought it might be like the one that carried his mother away, and the baby she carried with her. He'd tucked himself away in a corner of the brothel, shivering and sweating, hoping it might pass.

The madam had the decency to look a little sad when she found him, at least. He’s long forgotten her name, but he remembers her thick, red hands, glittering with rings, and the brass-blonde hair she wore piled on top of her head, almost none of it her own.

“Ah, little one,” she’d sighed, running a hand over his hair. “Don’t weep so much. Your first blood’ll fetch a pretty penny, at least.”

He remembers that night in fits and starts, out of order. He remembers the heat of the fire in the main room. He remembers the way none of the whor*s—none of the other whor*s, now he was one of them—would meet his eye. The scent of perfume, too f*cking sweet, making him gag, the shimmering fabrics they wrapped him in, the warp and weft scratching his skin, cheaply woven. The brass jewelry, too heavy, staining his skin green.

He remembers the ceiling of the room they laid him in, thick, dark wood beams too close overhead, crisscrossing like prison bars as he tried to catch his breath. If he could just get out, hide somewhere until it passed, use the ring to pay for passage to the nearest city, use the rest of his meagre savings to buy some suppressants, work odd jobs until he could afford a proper apprenticeship. He was a hard worker. He could do it. He just had to…

“Well now, what have we here?”

Ben’s voice, dripping with mirth. His foot in the centre of Izzy’s back, forcing him down onto his belly, stopping him in his tracks as he tried to crawl for the open window, chill night air a balm to his fevered flesh.

“Now, they tell me this is your first heat, but they always say that for the young ones, don’t they?”

He’d snarled when Ben grabbed hold of him, carrying him back to the bed like he weighed nothing at all. Ben laughed, knocking Izzy's hands aside as he clawed at him. A harsh slap sent him reeling back, ears ringing, tears starting in his eyes as Ben straddled him.

“Well, you certainly fight like a virgin,” Ben said, wrapping a hand around Izzy’s throat, pushing him down into the rough, hay-stuffed mattress. “Let’s see what you really look like under all this cheap tat… “

Izzy remembers sobbing, panicked as Hornigold ripped the fabric draped over his naked body, as he yanked off the brass jewelry, flinging it to the floor. He remembers the look in his eyes, covetous, as he traced his fingers over Izzy’s protruding ribs, down his concave stomach, to his small co*ck, traitorously hard between his legs. Hornigold laughed again, then plunged his fingers beneath it, shoving them into Izzy’s newly opened c*nt, still tight and alien to him, dripping with slick. Izzy shouted as thick fingers forced their way inside him. He tried to squirm away, reaching up to claw at Ben’s face. Ben backhanded him, not even bothering to look away from his c*nt, a delighted smile spreading over his face.

“Fierce little thing, aren’t you?” he’d said. “Wonderful. What a treasure…”

He’d flipped Izzy over again, effortless, pinning him by the back of his neck and pulling his hips up to present. A stinging blow to his ass made him shout, struggling again. Izzy's hands gripped the rough spun sheets, trying to find purchase, searching for a way out from under the enormous alpha holding him down. He felt the head of Ben’s co*ck, huge and hard, nudging at the folds of his c*nt and he threw a hand back, trying to push him away. Ben just laughed, smacking his ass again and then grabbing his wrist, twisting it painfully as he held it against the small of Izzy’s back.

“You’ll need training, won’t you, bitch?” he’d said, and then his co*ck was pressing into Izzy’s c*nt, burning as it tore him open. Izzy screamed, the sound strangled, agonized, and Ben groaned, his body blanketing Izzy’s, heavy, crushing, his sweat dripping onto Izzy’s skin, stinking with alpha musk.

“Christ but you’re tight,” he’d grunted. Every thrust felt like it was tearing Izzy open all over again. He sobbed silently, mouth open, face pressed into the mattress, Ben’s scent blending with the sickly sweet perfume and the lingering scent of other omegas, suffocating. Izzy was sure he’d die that night, ripped apart by this f*cking monster, sold to him by the only family he’d ever known.

The feel of Ben’s knot forcing its way into his c*nt made Izzy scream again, the pain of it beyond anything he’d ever imagined, popping in and out of his c*nt, radiating like fire and surely he was bleeding to death…

Ben came with a grunt, grinding his knot deep into Izzy’s c*nt, digging fingers into his ass, spreading him open as he flooded him with spend. He’d sighed, satisfied, slapping Izzy’s ass again, laughing at the way he shook and sobbed, wrapping his arms around himself for comfort.

“Look at you. Just like a little bird.”

The warmth in his voice made Izzy want to scream, to tear his f*cking throat out, to do anything it took to get free.

“Well, little bird,” he’d said. “I have just the cage for you…”

He’d led Izzy out on a leash the next day, handing the madam a heavy coin pouch, accepting the little bundle of Izzy’s things that she handed to him without so much as a word of thanks. She hadn’t looked Izzy in the eye. None of them would look him in the eye.

He thought for years she’d kept his ring for herself. He only found it after the mutiny, with the rest of his things, in the same bundle she’d handed Hornigold all those years before. He didn’t want any of the rest. Didn’t even think to ask for the ring when he handed all of it over to his new captain. Ed saw him looking at it as he pawed through the meagre contents, though. Longing.

“Want it, Iz?” he’d asked, easy as anything. “Catch!”

He’d snatched it out of the air when Ed threw it to him, heart pounding in his throat. Ed’s eyes sparkled—playful, affectionate. Izzy hadn’t even known it was possible to love him more…

“Bad, eh?”

Izzy startles. Olu’s watching him closely, expression carefully neutral. Izzy takes a breath, shuddering, and wipes his cheeks. He sets his jaw, folding his arms, unbothered.

“No worse than anyone else,” he says, half daring Olu to challenge him. Olu just nods, circ*mspect.

“So, with you and Ed…” he begins. Izzy bristles.

“Me and Ed is none of your f*cking business,” he snaps. “It’s none of anyone’s business. You all want to act like he’s some f*cking monster, but he’s not. He’s a good alpha. He’s always been fair to me. He never let anyone else have me after he was captain. He never did anything to me I didn’t deserve. He’s fair.”

Olu looks at him with sad eyes. Bastard. f*cking… stupid omega bitch, what does he know? Izzy bares his teeth, ready to defend his captain, his alpha, his Eddie, but Olu’s next words catch him off guard.

“So, you’ve got his mark now,” Olu says, nodding to the still-fresh bite over Izzy’s scent gland. “Has he got yours?”

*

Ed’s head snaps to the side, colliding with the deck with a dull thunk. He snarls, trying to reorient himself, and another blow catches the other side of his face. Stars burst before his eyes as his head hits the deck again.

“That all you got, old man?” Jim spits, and Ed grabs hold of their arms, rolling until he’s on top, catching them with a wild, open-handed blow that must set their ears ringing. Not that you’d bloody know it from the way they recover, lips drawn back from their teeth as they surge up, catching Ed by the collar and driving their forehead into his nose.

“That’s it, Jim, let him have it!” Frenchie’s voice rings out over the deck. Ed’s not sure when exactly they picked up an audience, but they’re surrounded now, crew on all sides shouting and jeering as they roll across the deck. He rears back, feeling blood pouring from his nose, vision blurring with tears, but he can’t waste time trying to clear his head. He may have greater size and reach, but Jim has youth and rage on their side. He swings wildly again, catching them by the hair. They shout, more in anger than in pain.

“Oh, come on, that’s got to be a foul!” Wee John exclaims. He’s sitting on the steps that Ed and Jim just recently rolled down, calmly knitting a sweater as he keeps half an eye on the fight.

“I’m not sure there are rules in this kind of fight, actually,” Lucius says. He watches from behind Black Pete, arms folded, nose wrinkled in distaste. Jim wraps their legs around Ed’s, rolling them across the deck again before driving a knee up into his groin. He grunts, eyes wide as the sickening pain rolls up through his gut, the air forced out of his lungs. The crew cheers.

*

Izzy whines quietly, the swell of Ed’s conflicting emotions overwhelming him. Olu glances at the ceiling above them, grimacing at a thump, followed by a cheer.

“Damn it, Jim,” he mutters, and then he smiles at Izzy, expression a little stiff. “Right, let’s get you back to your nest, eh? Don’t fret, Ed’ll be back in a jiff.”

Olu steers Izzy down the hall. Izzy moves slowly, breathing hard, his fever starting to spike again as he leans heavily on Olu, movement awkward without his wooden leg. Olu mutters under his breath.

“I swear to god, Jim, if you damage anything essential…”

Izzy whines, confused, shivering. He needs his alpha. He needs Ed.

“Right,” Olu says. He opens the door to the captains’ cabin, guiding Izzy towards the bed. “You get settled in your nest. Don’t worry, mate—your alpha’s on his way.”

Izzy’s movements are tentative as they pick their way across the cabin, little aches running through him as slick begins to slide down his thighs. Stede’s still fast asleep, mouth open, snoring contentedly. Olu helps Izzy onto the bed, then turns and hustles out of the cabin with a worrying sense of urgency.

Stede shifts as Izzy crawls into the nest, cracking one eye open.

“‘zzy?” he says muzzily. Izzy just whines quietly. Stede blinks, squinting in the dark. “Where’s Ed?”

“Eddie…” Izzy whimpers quietly, rolling onto his side, hands pressed between his thighs as he starts to writhe. From above, another thump, followed by another cheer.

“Oh, bugger,” Stede says, slipping out of the bed and pulling his robe around him as Izzy quietly moans behind him.

Chapter 10

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Lucius steps back as Ed and Jim stumble to their feet. Jim lands a roundhouse blow to Ed’s jaw and he staggers, keeping to his feet by force of will alone. They surge forward, pressing their advantage, and he wraps his arms around them, pinning their arms to their sides as he lifts them off their feet. They roar, eyes wild, teeth stained with their own blood.

“Oh, come on, you really mean that’s not a foul?” John demands, tutting. Black Pete shakes his head, practically vibrating with excitement.

“It’s the law of the jungle!” he insists. “Two alphas locked in battle! Kill or be killed!”

Jim pulls back, spitting a mouthful of blood into Ed’s eyes and he shouts, blinded. They jackknife in his arms, snapping forward to smash their forehead into his nose again. His vision goes white and they drop to the deck as he releases them. He stumbles back as Pete and Lucius scramble out of the way. His back hits a wall and he clings to it, forcing himself to stay upright. Jim’s teeth draw back in a fierce grin—they charge.

“Jim, stop!”

Jim freezes, hand pulled back, ready to deliver a blow to Ed’s throat. They glance guiltily over to the companionway. Olu stands in the doorway, hands on his hips. Ed blinks, head spinning as he tries to push himself up again, to press his sudden advantage. Instead, he slides slowly down the wall, hitting the deck with a thump and a muffled “oof.”

“You said…”

Jim starts, and then stops as Olu raises an eyebrow.

“I said don’t kill him,” he says firmly. “That includes beating him to death!”

Jim crosses their arms, pouting stubbornly. They look down at Ed—he stares back at them, eyes only half-focused, as he lies on his side, groaning quietly,

“…fine,” they mutter after a long pause. Olu sighs, relaxing slightly. Jim shifts, surreptitiously kicking Ed in the stomach. He grunts, winded.

“Jim!” Olu snaps. They shift, badly concealing a small smile.

“What?” they ask, all innocence. Olu just rolls his eyes.

“Right, you lot, break it up!” he yells at the assembled crew. “Back to bed, or watch, or whatever the f*ck you’re supposed to be doing! Not you, Archie, get back here!”

Archie looks around, wide eyed, pointing to herself and mouthing “who, me?” She shrugs, smiling as she heads towards the companionway.

“Thought you were gonna keep an eye on things,” Olu says, raising an eyebrow. Archie gestures at the deck expansively.

“I was!” she insists. “Couldn’t take my eyes off it! Bloody riveting, actually.”

Jim trails along behind Archie, wiping the blood from their mouth. Ed can’t help but feel a little insulted—they’re not even out of breath. Jim rolls their eyes, shifting awkwardly as Olu grabs their chin, turning their head towards the light to get a better look at the bruises forming on their face and neck.

“Olu,” they whine. “Come on…”

“No, you come on,” he replies, taking hold of their arm and pulling them below. “We’ll get you cleaned up in the galley, you’re not tracking blood into my nest again…”

Their whining fades into the distance as Olu pulls them along in his wake. Ed slowly pushes himself up to sit, leaning back against the wall behind him. His head throbs. He squints at the dinghy, swinging gently in the evening breeze. The motion of it makes his stomach roil. God damn it…

“What on earth is going on up h— Edward!” Stede squeaks. He hurries across the deck, pulling his robe tight around himself. “Have you been fighting?”

Ed grumbles, then groans as Stede crouches and takes his arm across his shoulders, pulling him to his feet.

“Well, come on,” Stede says, exasperated. “I guess I’ll draw another bath…”

*

Izzy huddles at the back of his nest, Olu’s words playing through his mind. Does Ed have his mark? Does Ed have Izzy’s mark? He’s seen the bond bite on Jim’s throat of course. But it never occurred to him that he could… could he?

It’s hard to imagine doing much of anything at the moment—he’s sweating, shivering as heat rages through him again. The edges of the world outside his nest feel fuzzy, faintly unreal. He needs his alpha. He doesn’t feel safe here, alone. His alpha’s nearby, but there’s something wrong, the bond sparking and humming with pain. Izzy whines softly, pushing himself towards the edge of the nest. His alpha is out there somewhere, hurt, in pain, and it’s not safe, the rhythm of that old certainty hammering in Izzy’s chest, and he’s back on the Ranger, in Ben’s quarters, and Ben is going to send Ed away…

Izzy stops at the edge of the bed, panting. The room’s empty. He’s alone, and that’s strange too, Ben never leaves him alone, doesn’t trust him, not since he found Izzy alone with Ed, the two of them asleep, curled around each other and it had been worth it, it had been, even when Ben dragged him out on deck again and—

The door opens, and Izzy scrambles backwards, whining. He pushes himself into the back corner again, making himself small.

“Izzy?”

Not Ben’s voice. No, that’s… that’s Bonnet. Izzy shakes his head, trying to clear it. Not the Ranger, then. The Revenge. And Ed…

“Oh, dear. I think the bath may have to wait, darling.”

And Izzy doesn’t know what the f*ck to make of that, but Ed’s close by. He sinks back into the pillows, breathing too fast, hyperventilating as his heat rolls over him like a storm.

*

Ed grunts as Stede deposits him on the bed. Everything f*cking hurts. The scent of Izzy’s heat surrounds him, pouring down his throat like smoke despite his rapidly swelling nose. He feels like he’ll suffocate if he doesn’t get his hands on Izzy soon. He groans when he tries to turn towards him, though, ribs aching. Izzy’s breathing too fast, that strange note polluting his scent further the longer he waits. Ed gasps, shoving at his leathers.

“Let me, for god’s sake,” Stede says, batting his hands out of the way and undressing him quickly, efficiently. Ed grunts, letting himself fall backwards into the nest. He reaches out, just managing to get a hand around Izzy’s ankle. Izzy yips, startled, before he relaxes into Ed’s touch. Stede looks down at him, unimpressed. “Well?”

Ed rolls his eyes. God, even that hurts.

“Give me a f*cking minute,” he says. “I think they broke a couple of ribs.”

“Well, it’s your own fault,” Stede says, unreasonably unsympathetic in Ed’s opinion. “Picking fights with the crew when Izzy’s in heat—honestly, Edward!”

Ed growls, bristling at Stede’s unfairness.

“Wasn’t trying to pick a fight,” he mutters, certainly not sounding petulant. “I was trying to f*cking leave…”

Izzy whines and Ed winces.

“Edward!” Stede hisses, eyes wide as he jerks his head in Izzy’s direction.

“What?” Ed hisses back. “I didn’t think he could hear me!”

Stede tuts, lips pursed.

“He’s right there, Ed. His heat isn’t going to block his ears!”

Ed just rolls his eyes again, groaning when it sets his head throbbing again. Right. Time to f*ck Izzy. He can do it. Done it plenty of times. He just needs to catch his breath.

*

Stede frowns as Ed stays exactly where he landed when he fell back on the mattress, staring up at the ceiling, occasionally groaning. Izzy had calmed a little with Ed’s hand on his leg, but now he’s writhing again, breathy whimpers punctuating his too-rapid breaths. His thighs rub together, slick glistening in the low light of the candles Stede lit before leaving the room. Even Stede can smell the need rolling off him. If that’s not enough to rouse Ed to his… his alpha duties, well…

“I suppose the mountain will have to come to Mohammed, then,” Stede says, crawling into the nest himself. Ed eyes him, confused.

“You what, mate?” he asks. “Who the f*ck’s Mohammed?”

Stede ignores him, crawling over to Izzy, who looks at him with heat-glazed eyes, blinking rapidly.

“Alright, darling,” he says, gathering the omega in his arms. “Your alpha is feeling a bit under the weather, so we’re just going to make things a little easier on him.”

Izzy squirms, whimpering, and Stede hums comfortingly as he sets the little omega down, straddling Ed’s lap. Izzy stops squirming, his hands going to Ed’s chest. He grinds down on his alpha’s co*ck, whimpering as it slips and slides over his soaking c*nt. Stede wraps an arm around Izzy’s waist, cooing sympathetically as he reaches down to grab Ed’s co*ck. Ed moans, his eyes widening as he looks up at Izzy.

“Here we are, sweetheart, come on now, be a good boy and ride your alpha,” Stede murmurs, maneuvering Izzy into position, holding Ed’s co*ck, hard and throbbing, in place, so Izzy can sink down onto it. Izzy moans, head falling back against Stede’s shoulder. Ed’s eyes roll back in his head as the wet heat of Izzy’s c*nt envelops his prick. Stede wraps both arms around Izzy, one hand low on his belly, the other gripping his residual limb. Izzy whines, uncertain, and Stede shushes him gently. “It’s alright Izzy, I’ve got you, I’ll show you how.”

Stede presses his body up against Izzy’s back, rocking his own hips as he guides him to bounce on Ed’s co*ck. Izzy moans and grunts, arms stretching up to wrap around Stede’s neck, clutching at him as Ed’s co*ck punches little sounds of pleasure out of him.

“That’s it, there you are, dear,” Stede says breathlessly, his own co*ck pressing into Izzy’s ass as he tries to ignore it. Izzy, though, is having none of it. He grinds back against Stede urgently with each thrust. He shifts, whining urgently, and wraps a hand around Stede’s hip, pulling him in tighter.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please…”

Stede feels almost certain he’s about to burst a blood vessel.

“Are… are you sure, Izzy?” he asks, clinging to the barest scrap of self control. Izzy sobs in response, fingers digging into the flesh of Stede’s ass.

“Please!” he says brokenly, turning his head to rub his cheek against Stede’s collarbone, and, well, never let it be said that Stede would leave a member of his crew in the lurch! He runs the fingers of one hand up the inside of Izzy’s thigh, gathering slick as he traces the folds of Izzy’s c*nt, feeling it gush out of him, Ed’s prick pumping in and out as Izzy rides him. With the other, he quickly undoes the fall front of his trousers.

He pulls his hand back, slicking his co*ck quickly as Izzy whines, desperate, needy. He grips Izzy’s hip tightly, steadying himself as he presses the head of his co*ck to Izzy’s ass, gasping as it slips in easily. Izzy makes a shocked little sound, co*ck jerking as both his holes are filled.

“Oh my god,” Stede moans, feeling Ed’s co*ck through the thin wall between Izzy’s c*nt and his ass. Izzy’s fingers tighten on his ass again, urging him forward, and well, who is he to argue with a man who knows what he wants? He wraps his arms around Izzy again, holding him tight as he grips Izzy’s co*ck, leftover slick easing the slide. Izzy moans, a guttural, animal sound as two co*cks pump in and out of him, one thrusting in as the other pulls out, never leaving him empty. He shakes uncontrollably as he comes over Stede’s fist, sobbing as Ed’s knot catches inside him, the feel of his alpha coming in him setting his c*nt pulsing again, ass contracting almost painfully around Stede’s co*ck, and then Stede is coming too, mouth stretched open, pressed into Izzy’s throat. Izzy slumps in his arms, head hanging, breath coming in sobbing gasps as aftershocks run through his body. He whines as Stede’s co*ck slips out of him, and Stede slowly lowers his limp form to lie across Ed’s chest.

“There you are, sweetheart,” he manages, flopping down to lie next to them. He runs a hand through Izzy’s hair and Izzy opens his eyes, blinking at him. “Get some rest, why don’t you?”

Izzy’s eyes drift shut, and Stede almost can’t believe that worked. Though, given the state Izzy’s in, he’d hardly be surprised if the man fell asleep no matter what was happening around him. Stede shifts, seriously considering getting up and taking a bath himself, but Izzy’s eyes snap open instantly. He reaches out, clinging to the sleeve of Stede’s robe. He frowns forbiddingly, and Stede’s sure he’d find the expression terribly intimidating if he hadn’t just f*cked him in the ass. As it is, it’s… well, it’s a little adorable. As he settles back down, stretching out alongside Izzy and Ed, he makes a mental note to never tell Izzy he thought so—he’s been stabbed by Izzy Hands more than enough times, thank you very much. Well, non-metaphorically, at least.

*

Ed groans quietly—Izzy’s c*nt pulsates around him, little shivers of pleasure still running through him, gripping Ed’s knot tightly. He feels sucked dry, his limbs heavy, immovable. His ribs throb, and he can taste blood when he licks his lips. Jim got in a couple of good shots to the face. Well, more than a couple. His lip must have split again while Izzy rode him. Not that he’s complaining.

Some part of him feels like he should be complaining. Izzy’s weight on his chest presses into bruises and cuts, pulled muscles, not to mention the broken ribs. He groans again and Izzy shifts, taking some of his weight off the right side of Ed’s body. Ed exhales gratefully, then grunts as the ribs twinge again. With or without a sated omega half-asleep on top of him, they’re f*cked. Next to him, Stede snores, his breath hot on Ed’s ear, ruffling his hair. Ed wriggles, turning his head to the side, then grunts as he feels his neck lock up. He wiggles again, trying to turn his head back the other way. Izzy whines as the knot tugs inside him and Ed freezes as Izzy’s discomfort lances through their bond, compounding his own. Izzy whines quietly and Stede snorts, half-opening one eye to glare at Ed.

“No wiggling,” he mumbles, or something like that—his voice is thick with sleep. His eye closes again almost instantly, and he starts to snore again, breathing on Ed’s neck now. Ed flexes his hands, gripping the fabric of the nest. It’s hot. f*cking sweltering, actually. Izzy’s body radiates heat, blanketing Ed’s. Sweat rolls down his neck, or maybe that’s just the result of Stede’s constant, humid f*cking breath. There’s grit in his hair, too, leftover from the tussle on deck. It grinds into his skin as he tries to stretch his neck out, wincing as it twinges. His own breath feels too hot, filling the space between him and Izzy, f*cking steaming hot. He opens his mouth, panting loudly. Stede grumbles sleepily, one arm flopping out as he shifts in his sleep, stretching across Ed’s throat. His back’s sweating too, soaking the nest beneath him. His ribs throb with every breath, his heart hammering, chest hollow, too hot, can’t breathe through his f*cking nose, can’t move, panic tightening his throat, twitching in the muscles of his belly and he needs to get out, he can’t f*cking breathe, he can’t…

Izzy sits up suddenly, frowning, head tilted to the side, still straddling Ed’s hips. The movement lets a rush of air flow over Ed’s belly, cooling the sweat there. He sucks in a lungful of air, grimacing as his ribs twinge again and another of Stede’s snores sends a rush of hot air over his neck, still uncomfortably twisted. Ed whines, blinking at Izzy sidelong, still not able to turn his head. Izzy huffs, looking a little too amused for Ed’s liking. Not that he can do a damn thing about it at the moment. He whines again. Izzy puts a hand on Stede’s shoulder.

“Bonnet,” he says quietly. Stede sighs, mumbling nonsense. Izzy rolls his eyes, gently shoving Stede until he rolls over with an offended little noise. He begins to snore again immediately. Izzy doesn’t move his hand right away—he keeps it on Stede’s shoulder, thumb moving absently, stroking. He looks almost fond. Ed can’t help the little warning rumble in his chest and Izzy pulls his hand back quickly. Stede mumbles again, plaintive. Izzy stares down at Ed for a long moment, something complicated passing over his face. And then, quite deliberately, never taking his eyes off Ed’s, he reaches down again, and strokes the hair back from Stede’s forehead. Ed growls again, a touch of uncertainty creeping into the sound. Izzy runs his fingers through Stede’s hair one last time and then slowly draws his hand back, ostentatiously unbothered. Ed has a sudden, intense impulse to grab Izzy by the hips, flip him onto his back, and f*ck into him again. Pain shoots through his ribs as he tries to move, and he groans, collapsing back again instead. Izzy’s c*nt pulses around him, his pupils blown wide as he looks down at Ed, mouth open, breathing hard—he looks like he knows exactly what Ed’s thinking. Ed wriggles again, deliberately now, pressing his knot up into Izzy’s c*nt as best he can without further angering his already furious ribs. Izzy moans, rocking his hips against Ed’s. His co*ck is half-hard, fever still held at bay by Ed’s knot inside him. It’s still too f*cking hot. Somehow, though, that doesn’t seem quite as urgent right now.

“You f*cking like that, don’t you,” Ed mutters—he doesn’t entirely know whether he’s talking about the feel of his knot grinding up into Izzy’s c*nt, or the thought they seem to share, Ed pinning Izzy to the bed, f*cking him, claiming him. It doesn’t seem to matter, either. Izzy moans again, one hand fisting his own co*ck as it firms, the other reaching back to grab Ed’s thigh. He can’t get much leverage with one leg, but he rocks back and forth, head thrown back, little sighs and whimpers filling the hot, still air as he takes his pleasure. Ed’s co*ck stiffens inside him, hips rocking countertime to Izzy’s movements. For a moment nothing matters but Izzy’s c*nt pulsating around him, his pleasure and Ed’s mingling, indistinguishable, through their bond, and then Izzy’s coming again, back arching, thighs trembling as Ed grabs hold of his hips and pulls him down. He comes deep inside Izzy’s c*nt again, and god he wants to f*cking breed his omega, wants to hold him down and f*ck him until it takes, over and over and…

“Christ, it’s f*cking hot in here,” Izzy grumbles. He pushes his own hair out of his face, sweat rolling down his neck. Ed stares up at him, mouth hanging open, only half comprehending the complaint. Izzy sighs, curling down over Ed’s body again, resting his head on his chest. “Soon as Bonnet wakes up, I’ll make him crack the window…”

Barely a moment later, Izzy begins to snore softly. Ed stares up at the ceiling, mouth still open, and sweats.

*

Izzy can feel the pain radiating through Ed, bruises and cuts and the deep wrongness of a broken bone or two—he can feel Ed’s embarrassment, too. Being taken unawares by a younger alpha could be written off as a fluke, especially when they were armed and aiming to kill. This time, though, he has no such excuses. This time, he knows he simply lost because Jim is the better fighter, the stronger alpha despite their slight build and apparent deference to their omega.

It's not that their bond bite has suddenly given him the ability to read Ed’s mind, like an omega in one of Stede’s bloody romance novels—no, this is just the end result of years of experience. He knows Ed. He knows how Ed thinks. And he can feel the thoughts churning over in Ed’s head, circling and circling, the pit in the hollow of his stomach growing deeper, more fathomless by the minute. He can feel Ed’s discomfort, too, too f*cking hot, pinned down, trapped, panic rising minute by minute. The fact that he hasn’t ripped his knot out of Izzy’s c*nt to get away yet seems like a small miracle. Stede’s not even really awake to reinforce the “no wiggling” rule, but here they are, still knotted together, god knows how many minutes later. Izzy’s lost track of time.

It’s still dark out, though it must be close to dawn. Izzy squints, peering through the curtains drawn over the little window by the bed, searching for the cool light of the oncoming dawn. It must be coming soon. He looks down at Stede, more than a little jealous of the man’s apparent ability to pass the f*ck out at a moment’s notice. Izzy’s always been a light sleeper. He feels exhaustion creeping in during the brief spells when Ed’s knot breaks his heat fever—he needs rest. So does Ed, for that matter. It’s hard to separate his exhaustion from Izzy’s own at this point.

Izzy shifts, feeling the knot pull inside him—it’s almost ready to slip out on its own. Beneath him, Ed drums his fingers on the bedding, head still twisted awkwardly. His neck’s f*cked. Of course it is. f*cking idiot, fighting alphas half his f*cking age, Izzy thinks, impossibly fond. Ed may be an idiot, but he’s Izzy’s idiot. Always will be.

He’s never thought Ed’s infallible, never thought his alpha knows everything—the fight with Jim is hardly the first time Ed’s done something Izzy wants to box his f*cking ears for. Hell, he’s never even hesitated to speak his mind about sh*t like this, Ed endangering himself, or the crew, or the bloody ship. But when it comes to… to this… Izzy’s c*nt pulses around Ed’s knot as it shrinks inside him. Well, after Hornigold, it never occurred to Izzy that he could push back against his alpha like he would his captain…

Ed tries to turn his head again, whimpering quietly at the pain that shoots through him at the abortive attempt. He pants, sweat flattening his hair against his forehead, strands falling into his eyes. Ed blows at them, irritation flaring as they flop back into his eyes again. f*cking pathetic. Well, Izzy supposes, there’s only one thing for it. The knot’s almost down—he’s certainly had worse pulled out of him. He grits his teeth, trying to relax. It’s always better if he can relax. Planting his hands on Ed’s chest, he inhales deeply, then exhales.

“Iz, what are you…?”

Izzy yelps as he wrenches himself off Ed’s knot, injured c*nt protesting as it pops free. He whines, curling onto his side for a moment, blinking back tears at the pain shooting through him, then pushes himself to his hands and knee, crawling to the window to unlatch it and push it open.

“Edward!” Stede squeaks, rubbing his eyes as he pushes himself up—well, that proves it’s at least possible to wake the f*cker up.

“Not again,” Stede snaps, glaring at Ed. Ed, neck still locked, waves his hands helplessly.

“It wasn’t me!” he insists, eyes widening in wounded innocence. Izzy breathes in the fresh air flowing in through the window, cutting through the miasma hanging in the hot air of the cabin. Resting his head on the sill, he takes in another breath, fighting down the urge to vomit as his c*nt throbs. Bleeding again, most likely, though it’s hard to tell when he’s slicking so much. He doesn’t want to look.

“A likely story,” Stede snaps, folding his arms and clicking his tongue as Ed continues to protest. Izzy draws in another breath, forcing himself to focus.

“It wasn’t him, Bonnet,” he growls. “Needed to open the window. And Ed’s neck is f*cked. No use sitting around waiting for a knot to go down when things need doing.”

“And so you simply tore yourself free again?” Stede gasps, aghast. Izzy rolls his eyes even as he squeezes his legs together, trying to ease the throbbing sting of the reopened cut.

“I’ve had worse,” he says. “Stop making a fuss!”

“Making a fuss!” Stede cries, indignant. “A fuss!”

Izzy rolls his eyes again. Bonnet really does have to get over his f*cking squeamishness if he’s planning on staying with an alpha for long. Though, Izzy supposes, he won’t ever have to deal with being knotted, and the bloody inconvenience of waiting for it to go down.

“I can’t believe you would tear yourself open when you’ve barely begun to heal, all to open a bloody window. Why didn’t you wake me, for god’s sake?” Stede demands, gesticulating. Izzy crosses his arms over his chest, jaw jutting stubbornly.

“You sleep like the f*cking dead,” he mutters. Stede, the bastard, turns to Ed.

“Did he even try?” he asks. Izzy clenches his teeth, glaring at Ed, willing him to keep his f*cking mouth shut.

“No, he did not,” Ed reports. f*cker.

“Well!” Stede says, still scandalized. Izzy shifts, uncomfortable.

“It’s f*cking done, Bonnet,” he snaps. “Nothing to be done about it now, anyway.”

“Hmm,” Stede says, lips tight. “We’ll just see about that.”

Stede hops up, hurrying over to his little library. Izzy takes the opportunity to push himself up again, crawling over to Ed. Ed grunts as Izzy prods at his neck, checking for serious damage—finding nothing but tense muscles, he carefully positions his hands at the base of Ed’s skull.

“Watch it mate, watch it– ow!” Ed whines as Izzy pulls his neck back into alignment. He runs his fingers over Ed’s muscles, feeling the tension start to fade. Finally, Ed pushes himself up, twisting his head from side to side, first cautiously, then more enthusiastically. “Cheers, mate!”

He pushes himself to the edge of the bed, Izzy apparently forgotten as he squints into the dimly lit room. Pre-dawn light rises from the horizon, but the room itself is still dark. Stede’s lit a candle, and he stands in the library, robe hanging open as he reads from a thick, heavy tome.

“What’ve you got there, love?” Ed calls. For a moment, Stede doesn’t answer, mouth moving as he reads a page, tracing it with his finger. And then…

“Aha!”

He sounds entirely too triumphant for Izzy’s liking. He strides over to the nest, brandishing the book enthusiastically.

“There, Ed,” he says, crossing his arms as he hands it over. “What do you think of that?”

Izzy shifts nervously, trying to peer over Ed’s shoulder.

“What?” he asks. His heat is rising again already, his thoughts turning fuzzy and slow. He can read well enough to keep track of a manifest, but no better than that—he’s not sure he’d be able to follow even if Ed gave him the bloody book at this point. Instead, he demands again, “What?”

Stede smirks, crossing his arms.

“If there’s one thing you and Ed are sorely in need of, it’s more structure,” he declares. “Omegas need discipline—everyone knows that. This book is all about, well, the right way and the wrong way to manage those needs.”

Izzy draws his teeth back in a snarl, ignoring the spark of heat between his legs at the thought of… of proper discipline, whatever the f*ck that means. It’s bullsh*t. f*cking humiliating, that’s what it is, and that thought certainly doesn’t go straight to his c*nt, either. And if it does, well, he can’t bloody help it, can he? It’s nothing but this f*cking heat, doing his head in.

“What, so you’ll take me over your knee like a naughty cabin boy, is that it, Bonnet?” he snarls. Unnervingly, Stede’s smirk gets even smugger.

“Oh, no,” he says. “That would be terribly inappropriate at this stage in our relationship. Besides, you and Ed are a bonded pair—the book is quite clear about that. Your discipline is his responsibility.”

Izzy scoffs, as though his mouth hasn’t just gone dry. The worst part, of course, is knowing Ed can already feel the way his heart has started pounding, the pulse in his aching c*nt at the thought.

Ed finishes the page, humming to himself thoughtfully. He sets it aside and looks back at Izzy, eyes dark, unreadable. His feelings are a complex tangle, and Izzy doesn’t know how to read them. God, that’s f*cking annoying. No one ever told him that a proper bond would be this f*cking confusing.

“Eddie…” he says, pleading, though he’s not sure for what. Ed clears his throat.

“Right, Iz,” he says, matter of fact, other than the small tremor in his voice. “Over my knee, then.”

He puts an edge of command into the words and Izzy whines, crawling to him reluctantly.

“Ed, this is f*cking ridiculous,” he mutters as Ed pulls him over his lap. His breath hitches as Ed slowly strokes his ass. “For f*ck’s sake, do you have to do it in front of Bonnet?”

Ed’s hand smacks down sharply and Izzy yips, then presses his hands over his mouth, eyes wide.

“That’s the deal, Iz,” Ed says, unmoved. “It’s either Stede or Jim—do you want Jim to watch, instead?”

Izzy whines, shaking his head as his stomach plummets at the thought. f*ck, and to think just a few minutes ago he was thinking Ed seemed f*cking pathetic. More fool him, as usual.

“No?” Ed asks, punctuating the question with another sharp strike. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question, omega.”

Another strike, and Izzy can’t hold in another yelp.

“N- no, alpha,” he says, fighting unsuccessfully to steady his voice. “I… Bonnet can stay.”

He can feel Ed’s co*ck pressing against his thigh and he rocks against it. His only reward is another stinging slap.

“None of that,” Ed growls—Izzy can feel his arousal growing, can smell it in the f*cking air, but Ed seems bound and determined to resist it. Izzy whines and Ed spanks him again. “Now, you take your punishment like a good omega.”

Izzy just whines and Ed’s next slap is even harder.

“You say, ‘yes, alpha,’” Ed says, pinching the cheek of Izzy’s ass until he squirms, panting.

“Yes, alpha!” he gasps, and Ed’s approval pours through their bond like a balm.

“There we go,” Ed says. “Now, let’s get started.”

Ed’s never exactly been light handed—this, it turns out, is no exception. Izzy tries to breathe evenly as Ed spanks him, hard and fast, striking one cheek then the other in a maddening, unpredictable pattern. It’s impossible—by the time Ed turns his attention to the backs of Izzy’s thighs, he’s sucking in wet little gasps, too quick, too close to crying, and he blinks hard, still holding tight to his self-control. He’s a grown man for f*ck’s sake, even if he is an omega.

“You’re supposed to talk to him, I think, Ed.”

Oh, f*ck, and here he’d almost forgotten Bonnet was in the f*cking room. He turns his face, pressing it into the soft, velvet drape at the edge of the nest, and whimpers as Ed lays into one ass cheek, striking the same spot over and over until he can’t help but whine and wriggle. Ed scruffs him, holding him down.

“Stay still,” he commands absently and a sob breaks from Izzy’s throat as he turns his attention to the other ass cheek. Ed sounds perfectly calm as he answers Stede. “What am I supposed to talk to him about?”

Izzy whines again, feeling the velvet growing wet and heavy as tears start to pour down his face.

“Oh, you know, what he’s done wrong, what kind of behaviour you expect from him in future, that sort of thing!” Stede sounds almost cheerful, the f*cking twat.

“Right!” Ed says. “I can do that…”

He peppers more blows up and down the backs of Izzy’s thighs, humming thoughtfully again.

“You don’t get to decide when it’s time to get off my knot, you hear me?” he says, more than a little hypocritically. Izzy huffs, irritated—it’s the wrong response. Ed turns his attention back to one ass cheek, punishing the same spot until Izzy can only gasp, open mouthed, gripping a pillow beneath him so tight he thinks it may rip. “Do you f*cking hear me, omega?”

And Izzy knows the response Ed wants—he even knows it’s in his best interests to give that response, and no other. But since when does Izzy act in his own best f*cking interests?

“You do it all the f*cking time and you’re not getting f*cking spanked!” he spits instead, the words coming out more petulant than he’d hoped. It only makes Ed spank harder, concentrating on the soft curve between Izzy’s ass and thigh until Izzy writhes again, sobbing.

“Not your f*cking job to spank me, is it?” Ed snaps.

“Whose job is it, then?” Izzy snipes back, voice too wet with tears to be taken seriously, and then yips, whining high in his throat as Ed turns to his other ass cheek again. Ridiculously, it’s Stede who replies.

“Well, Edward, I suppose that is something we could discuss! But this is hardly the time for it, Izzy…”

“Yeah, Iz, not the f*cking time,” Ed says, redoubling his efforts. “Christ, if your c*nt wasn’t such a f*cking mess, I’d spank that, too.”

Izzy whimpers again, this time turning his face to press it into Ed’s leg. The thought of Ed spanking his c*nt makes it throb, slick rolling down his thighs, and he knows Ed’s lap must be a f*cking mess right now—he can feel Ed’s prick, hard as a rock, pressing into him and, f*ck, he wants it, he f*cking needs it, the comfort of his alpha’s co*ck after a punishment.

“Now, I’m gonna say this one more time—you don’t get to f*cking hurt yourself, do you understand me? Not to serve me, not to protect me, not for any f*cking reason. Is that f*cking clear?”

There’s an urgency in Ed’s voice, a kind of desperation bleeding through their bond that Izzy can’t quite understand, especially in the state he’s in now. He sobs, rubbing his face against Ed’s leg submissively as Ed smacks one ass cheek and then the other, alternating swiftly. Izzy’s ass and thighs are burning hot, vision blurred by the tears streaking freely down his face.

“Yes, alpha,” he sobs finally. “Yes, I promise, please, I won’t do it again, Eddie, please!”
“Right,” Ed says. He keeps spanking as Izzy sobs and begs, his hand on the back of Izzy’s neck holding him in place. Finally, with Izzy limp over his lap, hands fisted in the rumpled fabric of the pillow beneath him, he stops. He pets Izzy’s ass, rubbing in the sting, occasionally dipping down to toy with the slick between his legs. Izzy can almost feel Ed’s co*ck throbbing underneath him.

“Okay, that’s it,” Ed says, sounding almost tender as Izzy’s sobs turn to little hiccups. “Good boy, good boy—you took that so well for me, Izzy.”

Izzy whines, rubbing his legs together, Ed’s praise sending a fresh wave of slick from his damaged c*nt.

“Alright, the book said a reward after, right?”

Izzy chokes another little sob, confused, but Ed’s not talking to him.

“That’s right!” Stede says. “And keep in mind a reward for an omega might not seem like a reward to you or me, especially right now. He probably wants to submit to you, show he knows that you’re the alpha, and you’re in charge.”

Ed hums thoughtfully, pinching the bruised flesh of Izzy’s ass as he thinks. Izzy wiggles, torn between the urge to get away and the urge to press into the pain, to beg for more.

“Okay, I think I’ve got it,” Ed says after a moment. “How about this, omega? You’re gonna suck my co*ck, and Stede here’s gonna f*ck your ass…”

Chapter 11

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Stede very nearly chokes on his tongue. He certainly won’t deny that watching Ed punish Izzy has had a certain effect on him—that effect being that his prick is currently hard enough to cut glass—but he wasn’t expecting to be invited to participate. Izzy writhes in Ed’s lap, ass and thighs glowing red, c*nt dripping, little co*ck rubbing against Ed’s leg.

“Please, alpha, please,” he whines, arching his back. Ed chuckles, running a hand over Izzy’s ass, down his thigh and back up again. He gathers slick on his fingers, then presses them up behind Izzy’s c*nt. Izzy gives a choked off moan as Ed’s fingers push inside him. Ed finger-f*cks him lazily, looking up at Stede, eyes half-lidded, smile dangerous.

“What do you say, Stede?” he says. “Gonna help me give my omega his reward?”

Izzy gasps as Ed twists his fingers, pushing another inside, pumping them in and out as he spreads his thighs, wanton. Stede opens his mouth, managing only a small, incoherent groan. Ed chuckles and he clears his throat, making another attempt.

“I… I suppose I could be prevailed upon to, uh, partake,” he squeaks, feeling as though his tongue has not only dried out but swollen to three times its usual size. Ed just laughs again.

“Hear that, Iz?” he says, pinching Izzy’s ass again, watching him writhe and whimper. “Stede’s feeling generous…”

Izzy pants, eyes glassy, mouth hanging open as he looks over at Stede.

“Please,” he mumbles again. “Please.”

Ed wraps an arm around Izzy’s waist, lifting him up and settling him on his knee. Izzy whines at the added pressure on his already-bruised ass, nuzzling into Ed’s neck to lap at his scent gland. Ed hisses, co*ck jumping at the sensation. He grabs the slightly crushed and tear-stained pillow Izzy had clung to during his spanking and tosses it down in front of him. Then, he squeezes Izzy’s ass one last time, chuckling darkly as Izzy clings to him, another quiet sob forcing its way up his throat.

“Alright, omega,” he says, as he lowers Izzy onto the pillow, stretched out on his belly between Ed’s legs. “Get to work.”

Izzy looks up at him, eyes wide, leg folded beneath him—Ed leans back a bit, taking his co*ck in hand. Izzy leans forward, eager, reaching out for it. Ed taps his cheek, a warning.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he says. “No hands. Come on—tongue out.”

Izzy opens his mouth, letting his tongue loll out, a blush high on his cheekbones as he leans forward and laps at the head of Ed’s co*ck. Ed groans, one hand wrapping around the base of Izzy’s skull, urging him forward. Izzy chokes a little as Ed thrusts up, his co*ck hitting the back of Izzy’s throat.

“That’s it, open up,” Ed says, pulling back and then thrusting forward again, deeper this time. He looks up at Stede, raising an eyebrow. “Well, mate? His ass won’t f*ck itself, you know.”

“Oh, right!” Stede exclaims, almost stumbling in his eagerness as he rushes forward. He kneels behind Izzy, stroking one hand down the length of his back, tracing whip scars with his fingertips. Izzy whimpers, then chokes again as Ed thrusts harder, hand fisted in his hair now. Stede rests his hands on Izzy’s hips, stroking the heated flesh of his ass, still radiating warmth, darker bruises starting to show through the redness. “Come on, darling…”

He urges Izzy up on his knees, taking the weight of his foreshortened leg, helping balance him, and spreading his thighs wide. Izzy chokes again, gagging as the angle changes and Ed’s co*ck plunges down his throat more deeply. His fingers flex, clinging to the pillow beneath him as Ed holds him in place, f*cking his throat at a punishing pace as tears start to flow down Izzy’s face again. Stede swipes a hand between Izzy’s thighs, gathering a generous amount of slick and rubbing it over his own co*ck. With one hand supporting Izzy’s hip, he guides it between Izzy’s legs, watching the head as it presses into Izzy’s body. Izzy whimpers, high and urgent, as Stede’s co*ck pushes into his ass, fingers flexing again, body starting to shake.

“Oh, f*ck, Izzy, that’s…” Stede gasps as he f*cks into the tight heat of Izzy’s body again. He grips Izzy’s hips firmly, pulling him back, thighs slapping against Izzy’s ass, drawing out another whimper, a fresh flood of tears, and he finds he can’t hold back. The scent of the omega’s arousal, the sight of Ed’s co*ck disappearing down Izzy’s open, willing throat even as he gags and chokes, spit flowing freely down his chin and over Ed’s swelling knot, spurring him on. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh fills the room as he f*cks Izzy’s ass, hard and fast. Izzy whimpers quietly, body almost limp between them as they both f*ck into him, Stede’s co*ck filling him each time Ed pulls back, Ed’s plunging down his throat every time Stede’s withdraws. Stede can feel his climax approaching, tension building behind his stones, stomach tensing as he picks up the pace, and he reaches around, grabbing Izzy’s co*ck in his hand, tugging it hard in time with his thrusts. Izzy’s body spasms, throat convulsing around Ed’s prick, ass clenching down hard as Stede comes deep inside him again.

“Oh, f*ck,” Ed gasps, and he yanks Izzy back by the hair, pulling him off his co*ck just in time to avoid knotting his mouth. “f*ckin’... lick my balls!”

He growls, pressing Izzy’s face against his sack, pulling his co*ck once, twice, and then he’s coming, too, hot spend dripping over Izzy’s face, mixing with the drool and tears as Izzy moans, mouthing at Ed’s balls, licking eagerly as he grinds them into his face. Izzy shudders, ass still clenching rhythmically around Stede’s co*ck as the aftershocks of his org*sm roll through him. Ed releases his grip on Izzy’s hair and Izzy slumps forward, face pressed to Ed’s inner thigh, sobbing, clinging to his alpha’s leg with shaking hands.

“Shh,” Ed says, reaching down almost hesitantly to stroke Izzy’s hair. “You’re alright, Iz. You did good. Such a good omega for me…”

Izzy sobs harder, pressing open mouthed kisses to Ed’s thigh, body limp, utterly spent. Stede groans as his co*ck finally slips free, looking down at the mess they’ve made.

“Well,” he says after only a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t know about you two, but I could really go for a bath.”

*

Stede is hoping for a rather more peaceful bath this time—if nothing else, the fact that Ed will be joining them should make for a less dramatic conclusion. Ed insists on carrying Izzy to the tub, and Izzy doesn’t put up even token resistance. They look rather sweet, Stede thinks, for the second time, Izzy tucked safely in Ed’s arms, face pressed into the side of his neck. Ed refuses to put him down while Stede fills the bath—though he seems to be coming around to Stede’s participation in the proceedings, there’s still a degree of possessiveness there. He is still an alpha, after all, and freshly bonded to his omega at that…

Stede adds a touch of the bergamot oil he used earlier—Ed’s favourite lavender is among the shattered vials now in the bin.

“Right!” he says, feeling rather pleased with himself. “Would you like a little help?”

“I’ve got him,” Ed responds, turning away as Stede reaches out towards Izzy. “He’s mine.”

And, well, Stede supposes that the jealousy is likely something they’ll have to work on. He hovers nervously as Ed steps into the tub, holding onto Izzy like a child with a security blanket. Izzy, Stede realizes, is fast asleep. Ed lowers them both into the water gingerly, wincing at the pressure it puts on his knee, and Stede valiantly resists the urge to mention that he did offer to help, and that Ed has no one to blame for his discomfort but himself. There’s a time and a place, after all! He can be the bigger person!

Izzy shifts in Ed’s arm as he’s lowered into the steaming water, mumbling softly, and then subsides, breath easing back into the easy rhythm of sleep.

Stede’s just begun to peel off his somewhat soiled robe when he hears a knock on the cabin door.

Ah.

Yes.

The crew.

Stede makes a face, hands twisting together as he looks at Izzy and Ed, finally looking comfortable together. The fact that Izzy isn’t currently awake is probably a significant factor, he’ll admit, but still, progress is progress. There’s another, louder knock, and then he hears the door open. He can’t help but bristle at the invasion of privacy, though lodging a complaint would probably be unwise at this stage. Baby steps.

Surely the sight of Ed and Izzy looking so content will go a long way to allaying the crew’s fears, at least.

Stede glances at Izzy’s bottom—he knows all-too-well that it’s already thoroughly bruised where it rests on Ed’s knee beneath the water. He doesn’t know why it makes him nervous. It was, after all, for Izzy’s own good, and the author of the book that suggested that particular approach is a leading expert on omega husbandry. It’s perfectly legitimate! He’s quite certain the crew will understand that! Still, legitimate or not, it’s probably best not to surprise them with it.

He grabs a cloth, dipping it in the water and scrubbing himself down quickly—may as well at least look presentable. Another, louder knock, and Stede pulls his robe around himself tightly and hurries back into the main cabin.

Roach eyes him dubiously as he emerges from the bathroom.

“Ah! Yes! Hello!” Stede says in a very normal tone of voice. Roach’s eyes narrow.

“Everything alright, captain?”

Something in the way he says captain sounds a little more conditional than Stede would like.

“Yes!” Stede says, again in a perfectly normal tone, indistinguishable from the tone he always uses. Olu, standing behind Roach, hums skeptically.

“... right,” he says, sounding far more dubious than is warranted. “Where's Izzy, then? And Blackbeard?”

Stede clears his throat, again in a very normal and casual way.

“They're, uh, just getting cleaned up. In the bath. That I've drawn for them,” he says. His face feels a bit hot. He's always been a blusher. But, well, there's certainly plenty to blush about in this particular situation. They can hardly blame him for that! Roach and Olu exchange a look. Stede clears his throat again.

“Izzy's actually asleep right now!” he tells them. “I think it's best not to wake him, actually. All tuckered out, you know.”

Roach and Olu look less sympathetic than he might hope. They exchange another look. Stede shifts from foot to foot, antsy. They're going to insist on checking on Izzy in a moment. It's now or never.

“We– we had a bit of an incident, actually,” he says, in the same cool, normal tone of voice he's been using all along. Roach raises his eyebrows, eyes wide as he waits for Stede to elaborate. Olu just frowns, trying to peer past him into the bathroom. Stede clears his throat again—he wonders if he's getting a little congested. “It wasn't Ed's fault this time!”

Roach's eyebrows make a respectable attempt to leave his forehead altogether. Olu glances over his shoulder. Stede suspects he's considering calling in backup. The last thing they need is Jim in here again—Ed's already feeling jealous and threatened, and another alpha, not to mention a younger alpha who's already beaten him in a fight twice, seems almost guaranteed to escalate things.

“It really wasn't! I swear!” Stede says, feeling as though he may be losing the battle a bit on his cool, normal voice. “It's just… well, Izzy took it upon himself to, um, remove himself from Ed's knot this time. Rather, uh, forcefully.”

Olu hisses through his teeth, pained. Roach looks decidedly unimpressed. Stede raises his hands, waving them in what he's pretty sure is a calming gesture.

“It's alright now, though!” he insists. “We talked about it, and I helped Ed find an appropriate way to… uh… discourage that kind of behaviour!”

This time it's Roach who looks worried. Olu looks downright suspicious.

“What d’you mean, discourage the behaviour?” he asks, and Stede really does think his skepticism is not only unwarranted, but more than a little insulting! He's a man of the world, after all! A man of science! And he can prove it, for that matter!

He hurries to the bedside and grabs the book, brandishing it triumphantly.

“Here! See?” he says, feeling properly confident again. “On the Proper Care and Husbandry of Omegas, A Gentleman's Guide for the Genteel Alpha!”

He smiles, proud of himself. Olu reaches out and takes the book gingerly. Stede watches closely as he begins to leaf through it, prepared to offer clarification on technical terms as needed. He suspects it will be necessary, because Olu looks increasingly baffled. Which is perfectly understandable, of course! Not everyone has had the benefit of Stede's education! He stands by attentively, almost vibrating with the need to be helpful. Finally, Olu passes the book to Roach, sighing deeply.

“Alright, captain, look,” Olu says tentatively. “The thing about books like this…”

He pauses for a moment and Stede nods eagerly. He's listening. He's engaged in the conversation! He's a captain who cares!

“Yes?” he prompts. Never let it be said he doesn't encourage his crew to speak their minds freely!

Olu looks at him almost pityingly.

“I mean,” he says, sharing yet another look with Roach, “they're all total sh*t, aren't they?”

*

Izzy drifts, Ed’s arms around him making him feel safe even outside the nest. That’s got to be a f*cking first—he laughs to himself, a quiet huff of air against the side of Ed’s neck. Feeling safe with his alpha. f*cking ridiculous. Stupid. He ought to know better by now.

“What?”

sh*t. Ed sounds nervous. Izzy tenses, suddenly feeling exposed again, ass still throbbing from his spanking.

“Nothing,” he says, too quickly. He’s always been a rubbish liar. Ed hums, skeptical, one hand drifting down Izzy’s spine to rest on his ass. Izzy shifts, whining, and Ed squeezes his fingers into the bruised flesh. Izzy shifts, thoughts starting to turn hazy again, pleasure and pain blending until he can’t tell one from the other.

“Nothing, hm?” Ed says. Izzy’s hips work, heart beating a little too fast. He presses his face into Ed’s throat, licking his scent gland, nuzzling it, covering himself in Ed’s scent. Ed squeezes harder, fingers digging in until Izzy whimpers, wriggling helplessly. “Izzy…”

Izzy grumbles, annoyed. Ed growls softly and Izzy trails off. Well, this might be a first, too—Ed’s waiting him out.

“It’s nothing,” he insists, then gasps as Ed pinches his ass, twisting slightly. “It’s stupid!”

Ed hums again, noncommittal, then twists harder. Izzy yelps.

“It’s– f*ck!” he says, feeling f*cking ridiculous. “I felt safe, that’s all…”

Ed’s hand gentles, stroking Izzy’s flesh absently. Izzy sighs, pressing into the touch, hips working.

“And then what?”

Izzy stops moving, tense again.

“What d’you mean?” he asks. He doesn’t want to talk about this. Ed’s hand stills and Izzy wriggles, trying to pull away—stupid. He’s in a f*cking bathtub, lying on top of his alpha. Where the f*ck is he going to go? Ed doesn’t squeeze or pinch though, his hand resting on Izzy’s ass like a reminder, a warning, and god, that makes Izzy’s c*nt throb, too, his prick already hard against Ed’s belly. He can feel Ed’s co*ck starting to take an interest, too, thickening where it’s pressed to his thigh. Ed makes a thoughtful sound.

“I felt it, you know,” he says quietly, and for a moment Izzy doesn’t know, can’t figure out what Ed’s talking about. “You feeling safe… it was nice. And then it changed.”

Izzy tucks his head down—of course he’d manage to f*cking ruin this. Ed waits, stroking Izzy’s skin again, his other hand coming up to rest at the nape of Izzy’s neck. It feels so f*cking tender. Izzy thinks it might break him wide open. The f*cking pinching hurt less.

“...felt stupid,” he mutters finally. “Not your fault. It’s just… I’m not safe, am I? But that’s– f*ck, Ed, it’s just how things are. You f*cking know that! Omegas aren’t f*cking safe with alphas—we’re not f*cking supposed to be!”

Ed hums softly, considering. It’s a better response than Izzy was expecting—that f*cking scares him too.

“I dunno, mate,” Ed says finally. “Like… Olu seems pretty safe with Jim, doesn’t he?”

Izzy opens his mouth to argue, then shuts it. He opens it again.

“That’s not–” he starts, stammering as he tries to work it out. “They’re– I mean, come on, Edward, they f*cking– they’re…”

“Yeah,” Ed says, plucking absently at the damp hair curling at the nape of Izzy’s neck. “I can’t explain it either…”

*

Despite having what he likes to think of as the gift of gab—and what several other people, one of them currently half out of his mind with heat in the bathroom behind him, have rather rudely described as “a complete inability to shut the f*ck up even to save his own miserable f*cking life”—Stede quickly realises he can only prevaricate for so long.

“Really, things are quite under control at the moment—in fact, I think we’ve worked it all out! And– and now all Ed and Izzy really need is a bit of time to themselves, you see, to, uh… talk it through! Reconnect! Work on their interpersonal communication and their… their understanding of each other’s love languages!”

Roach and Olu encroach on him in something like a slow pincer movement as Stede moves steadily backwards, smile rictus-tight as he tries to delay the inevitable. Olu still holds the—very reputable, Stede is prepared to insist!—book on omega biology, as if it’s faintly distasteful. Stede thinks he’s being very dramatic—something omegas are quite prone to, according to the extremely well-researched book that Olu is currently glancing at with vague distaste. Somehow, though, he suspects that pointing that out won’t go over well.

“Look, captain, you’re gonna have to let us through eventually, right?” Olu says, cajoling as though Stede is the one behaving irrationally. He isn’t! He’s a beta! Everyone knows that betas can be relied upon to be perfectly sensible, as they aren’t prone to the sort of hormonal shifts that make alphas and especially omegas so unreliable. And that means that Stede is the rational one in this situation, he reflects rationally as he stumbles a little before throwing his arms out to block the bathroom door.

“Of course, of course!” he says, refusing to acknowledge that his voice is somewhat higher than it really should be if he wants to fully and successfully demonstrate his rationality. “I just… I think we should give them a moment! In fact, why don’t I just pop in first to make sure we’re not, uh, catching them in flagrante delicto?”

Roach and Olu exchange a look, and Stede clears his throat.

“That… that means in an intimate moment,” he offers, still babbling. Olu gives him a pitying stare.

“We know what it means, mate,” he says. Stede flushes. He feels ridiculous. This entire situation is ridiculous!

“Don’t make us call Jim, captain,” Roach says, raising one eyebrow meaningfully. “They will not be so… understanding.”

Stede looks from Olu to Roach and back again, arms still splayed across the door. After a moment, Olu sighs deeply, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Look,” he says, with the air of someone who already regrets what he’s about to say. “Tell you what. I’ll go in—just me, yeah? And if things are alright, we’ll just f*ck off and leave you to it. Sound good?”

And Stede wants to say that sounds terrible, actually, and that they should both simply f*ck off and leave him and Ed and Izzy alone. They’re doing just fine! Izzy responded marvelously to the book’s prescribed, uh, treatment, as it were, and there’s no need for any checking whatsoever, by Olu or Roach or anyone else for that matter!

So he has no explanation whatsoever for the fact that when he does open his mouth to respond, all that comes out is, “Yes. Yes, of course! Sounds good.”

*

Ed tightens his hold on Izzy as the door to the bathroom opens, a warning growl rumbling in his chest. They’re coming to take his f*cking omega. He’s surprised when it’s only Olu. Stede slips in behind him, closing the door firmly. Izzy wriggles a little in his arms—the scent of his heat is rising again, has been for a few minutes now. He nuzzles the side of Ed’s neck, tongue darting out, brushing lightly over Ed’s scent gland and, f*ck, Ed wants to flip him over to f*ck into his c*nt from behind, wants to squeeze and slap his bruised ass while he does it, he wants to make Izzy whine and scream and come over and over…

Olu clears his throat, and Ed startles, growling louder as he’s reminded they’re not alone. Izzy whimpers, wriggling again, more urgently now.

“Ah,” Stede says, eyes darting between Izzy and Ed in the tub and Olu, remarkably unperturbed in the candlelit room. “Bad timing. Um. Perhaps later?”

Olu doesn’t respond. He keeps his eyes on Ed and Izzy. He approaches the side of the tub slowly—he doesn’t make eye contact with Ed and that… that helps a bit, actually. Olu’s an omega, his scent a delicate mix of cinnamon, sugar cookies and salt, with a faint hint of orange blossom thanks to his bond with Jim. He doesn’t smell like a threat. Like this, moving slow, eyes down, he doesn’t look like a threat either. Ed huffs, mollified, though he doesn’t relax his grip on Izzy. His growl quiets to an almost inaudible rumble. Olu kneels down by the tub, each motion careful, predictable.

“I need to check on Izzy, alright?” he says. Ed’s heart rate picks up, and he’s sure he’s squeezing Izzy too tight now—Izzy whines quietly, and Olu’s frowning now, but he can’t let go, can’t be sure they won’t snatch his mate away from him. Olu stretches a hand out, the movement almost painfully slow. Ed snarls, water splashing as he rolls to the side, holding Izzy to his chest as he turns his back to Olu.

“Edward!” Stede chides, bustling around to the opposite side of the tub. Ed bares his teeth. Stede just rolls his eyes, unimpressed. Ed glares at him, definitely not pouting. Stede pays him no mind, apparently totally unintimidated—it’s f*cking bullsh*t. Just because he let Stede f*ck his omega once or twice doesn’t mean he’s some toothless pup. He’s as dangerous as ever. He could bite Stede! He thinks he might, actually—any minute now! Stede clicks his tongue, exasperated.

“If you won’t let Olu take a look, they’ll just send Roach in,” he says. “Or Jim!”

Ed’s eyes widen, and he whines quietly. Still squished in his arms, panting against his neck as his fever rises, Izzy presses in impossibly closer to him, lapping at his scent gland, comforting.

“Exactly!” Stede says, far too pleased with himself. “You wouldn’t like that, would you? So, just roll right over again and let him take a look at Izzy!”

Ed grumbles, taking his time as he turns onto his back again—he’s not doing it because Stede asked him to, and he’s definitely not doing it because he’s scared of Jim. He just feels like turning over, that’s all. It’s comfier.

Olu reaches out again, fingers just grazing Izzy’s shoulder. Izzy starts, turning his head awkwardly to look at Olu through heat-glazed eyes. Olu smiles at him, genuinely fond as he reaches out to push Izzy’s hair out of his eyes.

“Alright, Iz?” he asks. Izzy blinks at him, mouth ajar as he rubs his cheek against Ed’s chest. Olu waits patiently as Izzy processes the question. Finally, Izzy nods, a jerky motion, uncontrolled. Olu just chuckles. “Fair enough. Came at a bad time didn’t I? I’ll come back in a bit. You just do your thing, man.”

He stands up, backing away from the tub—Stede follows him, speaking to him softly as they head for the door. Ed’s attention is already elsewhere, Izzy’s scent filling his lungs, the arousal throbbing through their bond maddening, impossible to ignore. Izzy whines as Ed grabs his ass, squeezing hard as he pulls Izzy in to grind against him, Izzy’s little co*ck pressing into his as they rock together. Ed spreads Izzy’s ass cheeks, fingers digging into the flesh of his narrow ass as Izzy gasps and moans.

“Ed,” he says, voice wrecked. “Eddie, please, please…”

Ed surges up, pushing Izzy down, pinning him against the side of the tub, one hand wrapping around his throat. Izzy’s eyes roll back in his head, hands clinging to Ed’s wrist, almost worshipful.

“You want it, omega?” he asks, rocking his prick against Izzy’s c*nt, slick making the slide of it impossibly easy even under water. Izzy sucks in a harsh breath, tears starting in his eyes as he presses up, trying to pull Ed’s co*ck into him. Ed pins his hips, rocking against him again, teasing, smirking as Izzy starts to sob.

“What was that, Iz?” he says, squeezing Izzy’s throat, watching as his face turns red, feeling Izzy’s need blending with panic and awe and submission, and Ed’s never felt so f*cking powerful. “You’ll have to do better than that, slu*t. Ask me to f*ck your sloppy c*nt. f*cking beg me for it.”

Izzy fights for air, only able to pull tiny breaths into his aching lungs, tears streaming down his cheeks, c*nt throbbing, empty, desperate to be filled.

“Please, alpha,” he wheezes, spreading his legs as best he can. “Please f*ck my sloppy c*nt, please, I’ll be good, I’ll be so good for you, Eddie, please…”

His begging cuts off with a long, low moan as Ed f*cks into him suddenly, thrusting relentlessly, giving Izzy no chance to catch his breath. He keeps his hold on Izzy’s throat, reaching up with his other hand to stroke Izzy’s cheek. Izzy whines, pressing into the touch, and Ed pulls back, slapping Izzy across the face, watching a red mark bloom across the cheek he’d just stroked. Izzy gasps sharply, hips working to meet Ed’s thrusts, eyes rolling back again as Ed tugs at his hair, then slaps him again.

“You f*cking love it, don’t you,” Ed says. His tone is cruel, but there’s something wondering beneath it, an awe of his own as he watches his mate beginning to shake apart from the confusion of pleasure and pain overwhelming him. He reaches between Izzy’s legs, smiling wickedly when Izzy’s eyes meet his again, a touch of panic there as Ed takes hold of his co*ck, pulling it too harshly, too fast, in time with his punishing thrusts. Izzy whimpers, thrashing at the rough touch, unable to pull away. Ed lets go of his co*ck suddenly and Izzy wails as best he can with Ed’s other hand still wrapped around his throat. He yelps as Ed slaps his co*ck, mouth hanging open, hands clutching at Ed’s shoulders, head shaking as Ed pulls back and slaps his co*ck again.

“I wanna see you come from this,” Ed whispers, “little pain slu*t. You’re my f*cking whor*, aren’t you, Iz?”

Izzy nods fervently even as a fresh flood of tears pours down his face as Ed slaps his dick, occasionally pulling at it cruelly, then slapping again, pinching the flesh of Izzy’s inner thighs as he pounds into his abused c*nt.

“Come on, then,” Ed demands, “let’s see you f*cking come from your alpha slapping your useless little prick…”

He slaps it hard, grinning fiercely as Izzy’s back arches, c*nt spasming, little omega co*ck jerking against his belly, and then Ed’s coming too, knot locking him in place as Izzy’s c*nt milks him. He lets go of Izzy’s throat, listening with a strange satisfaction as Izzy sucks in desperate breaths, choking and gasping as his body shakes through the aftershocks.

Ed reaches down and grips Izzy’s softening co*ck in his fist, stroking it hard as Izzy whimpers, then sobs, overstimulation making the touch painful. His lip trembles as he looks up at Ed and that feeling of power washes over Ed again, overwhelming, terrifying. Izzy would take anything from him. Izzy would do anything for him.

“You’re mine,” he whispers, finally releasing Izzy’s prick, watching him slump back in the tub, legs spread to expose his c*nt, Ed’s knot locked deep inside of it. Izzy nods, still fighting to catch his breath.

“Yours,” he manages, voice hardly more than a whisper. “Yours, alpha…”

Ed smiles, smug, satisfied. He runs his hands over Izzy’s body, memorizing the contours of it—he’s never touched Izzy like this, looked at him like this. He’s been missing out.

“You did good, Iz,” he says, pressing his lips to Izzy’s ear, feeling him shudder at the praise. “My good omega. Coming for me like a two bit whor*. Next I’m gonna teach you to come with nothing but my prick in your ass. How’s that sound?”

Izzy’s c*nt spasms around him—his eyes shine as he looks up at Ed.

“Yes, alpha,” he says, adoring. “Yes, please.”

*

Olu shrugs at Roach as they emerge from the bathroom, closing the door behind them with a soft billow of fragrant steam.

“They're good for now,” Olu says. He turns to Stede, waving the extremely well-sourced—or at least very expensively sourced—book at him, looking decidedly unimpressed. “I'm confiscating this, alright? No more of this sh*t, at least not until me and Jim have a chance to go through and make some changes.”

Stede nods eagerly—at this point every moment where neither he nor Ed are getting stabbed is a small victory. And it's been at least an hour since Ed last raped Izzy, to Stede's knowledge anyway. That's got to count as a win! Olu still doesn't look terribly impressed, and Stede is glad he let that last point stay an “inside thought,” as it were.

Olu shakes his head, looking genuinely exhausted as he steps out into the hall. Roach looks back at Stede, pointing at his own eyes, wide and a little wild, then at Stede's and back again, message crystal clear—we're watching you. No more funny business.

Stede grins widely, aiming for confidence, though he has a sneaking suspicion the expression is a lot closer to constipated. Finally, the door shuts. He sinks into a chair, dragging a hand over his face. He needs a bloody drink.

Chapter 12

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Roach eyes Olu curiously as they head for the galley, always the crew’s de facto rallying point.

“So… we're not killing Blackbeard?” he asks, sounding a bit disappointed. Olu shrugs, ambivalent.

“I dunno, man,” he says. “Look, I don't like it any more than you do, but…”

He glances down at the book in his hand, lip curling with distaste.

“Crazy thing is, I think Izzy might be the only omega in the world this sh*t actually works for. Now help me find a pen—if Ed needs a manual on how not to torture his f*cking omega to death, we’re gonna make him one.”

*

Ed presses his face into the side of Izzy’s neck, breathing deep—his scent is comforting, somehow rich and fresh at the same time. Still, something lingers underneath it, that touch of rot, a wrongness that makes Ed’s stomach twist. He whines softly, tracing Izzy’s bond mark with his tongue, feeling the contours of his own teeth over Izzy’s scent gland. A soft rumble catches him off guard, not a growl, but a purr, the soft vibration easing the tension in Ed’s chest. Izzy murmurs in his sleep, turning his head towards Ed, nuzzling his hair before drifting back into deeper sleep. Ed can almost feel his dreams, the slow, shifting pace of Izzy’s unconscious world, like the reflection of the clouds on still water. The bath has cooled. Izzy shivers, pressing himself into Ed, the heat of his c*nt around Ed’s knot keeping him warm. He feels the chill working its way into Izzy, though, a strange, alienated sensation. Izzy shivers again and Ed holds him tighter, rolling them until Izzy rests on his chest. His ribs twinge as he moves and Izzy shifts in his sleep, whimpering quietly. Where the f*ck is Stede, anyway?

Izzy rubs his face against Ed’s chest, purring again, but gooseflesh rises on his skin and he trembles a little, too f*cking cold. God damn it. Ed moves carefully, reaching down to support Izzy’s ass with one hand, wrapping the other around his waist as he pushes himself up to sit. Every muscle in his body aches, not to mention the f*cking ribs—and he’s pretty sure his nose is broken at this point, too. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. But that off note in Izzy’s scent, and the way his teeth have started to chatter even as he purrs and presses himself against Ed… god, he can’t f*cking stand it. He needs to get his omega back to their nest, safe and warm, where Ed can protect him and f*ck him, and… and…

He doesn’t even know what else. What do other alphas do for their omegas? It’s not like he’s ever had a chance to talk to anyone but Hornigold about this sh*t, and Jack from time to time when they were younger, which was more or less the same thing.

Jack changed too, though, didn’t he? Ed remembers the first time he saw Jack with Annie, when the Queen Anne met the Kingston for shoreleave ten years ago or more. The way he looked at her, like she was f*cking precious, magical… He’d teased Jack about it, called him heat-whipped, told him he needed to get his f*cking house in order, and Jack had laughed, joked about omegas with him. But the first thing Jack did when they headed into town together was stop at a little jeweller to buy her a gold necklace—to f*cking buy it! What kind of pirate buys a f*cking gift, and for an omega, at that!

Izzy looks so soft, fast asleep in the dim light of the bathroom, skin glistening with water droplets. He’d look good in gold, Ed can’t help but think. Rubies and emeralds and silk and… He shakes his head, trying to focus on the task at hand.

Ed pushes up to stand, slowly, carefully, cradling Izzy against him, legs splayed over his hips, trying not to jostle the knot as he goes. He bites back a groan as his ribs protest, stepping out of the tub carefully. Faceplanting on the f*cking bathroom floor won’t do either of them any good. The knot tugs, just a little, as he stumbles a bit, keeping his feet through force of will. Izzy half-wakes.

“Wha’s happening,” he slurs, eyes unfocused. Ed shushes him, stroking a hand down his back, then pulling Izzy’s head back in to rest against his shoulder.

“Go back to sleep,” he says firmly. Izzy gives a little whine of protest, but his eyes are already drifting shut again, the combination of his own fatigue and his alpha’s command irresistible. Ed almost feels a bit guilty about it. But why shouldn’t he give Izzy orders? He’s his f*cking alpha, for f*ck’s sake…

A little voice in the back of his head reminds him that he thought the same thing when he pinned Izzy down and f*cked him in front of the crew of the Queen Anne, and when Stede told him that doing things to Izzy he didn’t want was rape, alpha or no...

Izzy shifts in his sleep again, pushing his face into Ed’s scent gland, licking it, comforting him. Somehow that almost makes him feel worse.

He can’t reach a towel without risking pulling his knot out of Izzy.

f*ck it. They can dry off in the nest.

Water runs in rivulets from his hair, cascading down his back, his chest, as he leaves footprints in his wake—Stede hates it when he gets the carpets wet, but if Stede has a problem with it, he shouldn’t have left him to handle all this alone. He knows he’s not being fair. He’s not in a particularly fair frame of mind.

He shoulders his way through the door and back into the captain’s cabin awkwardly, Izzy attached to him like a limpet, or a f*cking koala, though Ed’s not crazy about that metaphor—he wouldn’t stick his dick in a koala. Wouldn’t stick his dick in a limpet, either, but somehow that one’s not quite as creepy.

“Stede,” he hisses as he looks around the cabin. “Stede!”

For a moment, his stomach plummets. Maybe this is it. The crew have decided to mutiny. Makes sense they’d take Stede out first—they like him well enough that they probably don’t want him to have to watch whatever they’ve got in store for Ed. Izzy whimpers again, and Ed can feel him waking up. God, will Izzy even survive this…

Ed’s spiraling thoughts are rudely interrupted by a snore from the bed nook. He pushes the curtain aside, holding Izzy to him with just one arm.

Stede lies spread-eagle in the nest, still wearing the same soiled robe from earlier. Well. Half-wearing it. It’s tangled underneath him still barely clinging on to his forearms. His hair flops in his face, and he snores loudly—even louder than usual. The half-full bottle of brandy balanced precariously among the pillows and blankets of the nest likely has something to do with that. Well, that explains why he didn’t come check on them in the bloody tub. Or get cleaned up himself, for that matter. He still smells of sweat, the subtle, herbal note of his own scent mingling with the sweet jasmine of Izzy’s heat and the dark, tobacco richness of Ed’s rut. Ed sighs, awkwardly clambering into the bed with Izzy still wrapped around him. The pain in his knee flares, ice cold and startling, a perfect counterpoint to the piercing ache in his ribs. He groans as he settles next to Stede, staring up at the ceiling with Izzy draped across his chest. At least the bloody window’s open now—the early morning breeze catches his damp hair and he sighs in relief, breathing in the fresh, sea-scented air. After a moment, he grabs a blanket from a corner of the nest, tucking it around Izzy, pushing wet hair back from his forehead. Izzy’ll be pissed he f*cked with the nest when he wakes up. Probably be pissed they didn’t dry off before they got in, for that matter.

Or maybe by that point he’ll be desperate enough for another knot that he won’t even notice.

“Time will tell,” Ed mumbles out loud. Stede responds with an impressive, long drawn snore, terminating in a series of snorts, followed by another long, noisy inhalation. Ed’s stomach growls. He reaches out and grabs the brandy bottle—it’s going to be a long morning.

*

Ed’s out cold when Stede wakes up a few hours later with a pounding headache and a nebulous sense of regret. The brandy bottle, now empty, has been pushed out of the nest. Izzy, curled on his side with his head resting on Ed’s chest, opens his eyes as Stede pushes himself up to sit. He looks a touch wary, but Stede can hardly fault him for that—his pupils are blown wide, and he’s breathing hard, heat approaching another peak. Ed snores, dead to the world, his co*ck only half-hard despite the overwhelming scent of his omega’s heat in the small space. Any omega would feel vulnerable under these circ*mstances—it’s remarkable that Izzy’s let Stede stay in the nest at all.

He whines now, rubbing his face against Ed’s chest. Ed doesn’t even shift. Stede clicks his tongue, irritated.

“For god’s sake, Edward,” he mutters. They’re all more than stressed enough without Ed drinking himself into a stupor—his head twinges as he moves, an unpleasant reminder of his own recent excesses. But then, he doesn’t have a needy omega to tend to. A voice in the back of his head reminds him rather rudely that the crew might disagree with that assessment. Neither he nor Ed have acquitted themselves particularly well…

Izzy whines again, his hands wandering over Ed’s shoulders, down the soft curve of his slender stomach to his half-hard co*ck. The light of day is bleeding into the cabin again, soft and grey in the early morning. There’s a new bruise on Izzy’s cheek, and what look like fresh fingerprints around his throat. Stede’s stomach drops—he wishes he hadn’t left them alone for quite so long. But, well, horses and barn doors and spilled milk and all that. He’ll talk to both of them about what exactly happened later. Right now, Izzy needs his mate’s knot in his c*nt, and it looks like Stede’s the man for the job! Or, well, the man to help get the job done, at least. He reaches out, touching Izzy’s shoulder gently—Izzy startles, baring his teeth as he turns, hovering over Ed protectively.

“It’s alright, darling!” Stede says, raising his hands, as unthreatening as he can be. “I just want to help…”

Izzy relaxes slowly, watching Stede as he reaches out again. This time, when Stede touches him, gently pushing his hair out of his eyes, he whines, uncertain.

“You want your alpha’s knot, don’t you, sweetheart?” Stede asks. Izzy pushes into Stede’s hand, whimpering quietly. Stede shuffles closer, formulating a plan. Luckily he and Ed’s recent trip to the, uh, specialist shop in the Republic had been rather fruitful. He suspects he has just the thing…

Izzy watches him curiously as he slips out of the nest and shuffles over to the trunk where he keeps the special items from that specialist shop—the very trunk where he’d kept the harness and muzzle that had come in so unexpectedly handy earlier. He rifles through it, muttering to himself as he pushes aside the various curios and devices he and Ed have collected over the past few months. Finally, near the bottom of the trunk, beneath a coil of silky rope and a small collection of plugs in gradually increasing sizes, he sees it.

“Aha!”

He pulls out a little velvet bag—this was one of their more expensive purchases, and they’d been saving it for a special occasion. Ed had been terribly enthusiastic about the prospect of being, uh, used while he was unconscious, but Stede had been rather more hesitant. And so they’d waited. And thank god for that.

He pulls out the little vial, watching the pale liquid swirl inside it. The vendor had assured them it would be perfectly safe to use alongside alcohol or laudanum or whatever they chose to render the recipient unconscious, but Stede still feels a touch nervous as he crawls across the nest to Ed. Izzy whines again, nervous. Stede smiles at him encouragingly.

“Not to worry, Izzy!” he trills with more confidence than he feels. “We’ll have a knot in you before you know it!”

He shakes the bottle vigorously, just as the shopkeep showed them, then carefully uncorks it. One… two… and three drops for good measure between Ed’s slightly parted lips, and then he recorks the bottle, tucking it back in its little velvet pouch for safekeeping and then nestling it between the pillows at the edge of the nest. A little goes a long way, they were told, but he’ll feel better with it close at hand.

Ed shifts in his sleep, breathing faster. Izzy whines, a high, worried sound, pressing his face to Ed’s neck, inhaling his scent. Ed groans quietly, one hand reaching down to grip his rapidly hardening co*ck—his eyes don’t open.

“Right,” Stede says. He moves quickly, efficiently even, wrapping his hands around Izzy’s waist and lifting him before he can react. Izzy yips, startled, and Stede smiles indulgently as he lowers him over Ed’s flushed, heavy prick. “Up you go!”

Keeping one arm around Izzy’s waist, he reaches down, taking hold of Ed’s co*ck and angling it up so it slides between the folds of Izzy’s c*nt. Izzy moans, rocking forward when he feels it, and Stede holds it in place for him. With a tiny adjustment of the angle, and a rather adorable wriggle from Izzy, it catches on the mouth of his c*nt and slides inside. Izzy shivers, a full body wave of pleasure running through him as Stede reaches up to toy with his pierced nipples. He lets his head fall back against Stede’s shoulder, his body lax and trusting as Stede guides him, one hand on his chest, the other on his thigh, helping him ride his alpha’s co*ck.

Ed mumbles in his sleep, then sighs, head tossed back, the long line of his throat glistening with sweat. Izzy’s breath comes in short gasps, broken cries of pleasure punctuating each sharp inhalation as he bounces up and down. Ed’s knot swells quickly and soon all he can do is grind down, moaning continuously.

“That’s it, there you are, darling, take it, take what you need…” Stede presses his lips to the side of Izzy’s throat, dangerously close to the mating mark, as he reaches down and takes Izzy’s co*ck in his hand, pumping it firmly. Izzy shudders, voice breaking on a shout, back arching as he comes, a flood of slick spilling from his c*nt even as his co*ck pulses in Stede’s hand, a tiny bit of spend spurting over his fingers. Ed groans quietly as he comes deep in Izzy’s c*nt, panting softly, eyes still shut, almost beatific. Izzy slumps back against Stede, moaning and shivering through the aftershocks. When Stede raises his hand to Izzy’s lips, Izzy sucks his fingers into his mouth without hesitation, clever tongue nimbly licking them clean.

“Oh, good boy, Izzy,” Stede says, voice low. His own co*ck throbs at the feeling, but Izzy’s eyes are already drifting shut—Stede slowly lowers him to lie across Ed’s chest, legs splayed over Ed’s hips, c*nt stuffed full. Izzy sighs, contented, wrapping his arms around Ed’s neck, head pillowed on his chest. Moments later, he’s fast asleep. Ed shifts again, murmuring, then settles and Stede, co*ck so hard it aches, flops down next to them, staring up at the ceiling. A wave of exhaustion rolls over him and he closes his eyes—his co*ck, he decides, will just have to wait.

*

Izzy drifts in and out of sleep, Ed’s knot in his c*nt equal parts comforting and distracting. He’s surrounded by Ed’s scent, saturated in it, intoxicated by it. He presses his face to the side of Ed’s neck, nuzzling his scent gland, licking it curiously. It had never occurred to him, marking Ed. It still seems f*cking absurd, the idea that he could mark his alpha, that Ed could be as much his as he’s Ed’s. It may work for Jim and Olu, but for him and Ed? He closes his eyes, ignoring the small part of him that whispers, why not? That voice sounds uncomfortably familiar, far too much like Stede for Izzy’s comfort.

Why not? Oh, only a million f*cking reasons, not least of which is that Ed would never f*cking allow it. f*cking Blackbeard, bane of the British Navy, scourge of the Spanish, pirate king of the Caribbean, carrying an omega’s mark? Ridiculous. Impossible. So f*cking stupid that it’s not even worth going through every single reason it would never work. Not worth thinking about at all…

He nuzzles Ed’s throat again, feeling his own bond mark throbbing in time with Ed’s heartbeat, still raw, unfamiliar, sensitive. He lets his tongue lave over Ed’s scent gland again, filling himself up with the richness of it, teeth itching as he refuses to think about it, as his heart beats hollow in his throat, and that damn voice, annoying, optimistic, idiotic, whispers again… Why not?

*

Ed shifts, strange dreams casting shadows across his sleeping mind—he sees Izzy above him, head thrown back, black hair shining in the light of Hornigold’s cabin as he rolls his hips, and they’re on the Queen Anne, his hands tangled in Izzy’s hair, Izzy’s arms around his neck as they rock against each other, pleasure and urgency and pure, raw need in the clench of Izzy’s c*nt around him, and the ship is burning down around them, sparks rising from the floor, beams crashing down and he can’t bring himself to care about anything but the taste of Izzy’s mouth under his, but that’s not right, is it, they don’t kiss, they never have, too intimate, too open and god, he sees Hornigold through the flames and the old bastard is laughing, f*cking laughing at him, at them, at the boys who couldn’t escape him even after they f*cking killed him and god, Ed can’t breathe, he’s f*cking choking, the smoke rising up, pulling him down and…

“Eddie…”

Izzy’s voice, soft and rough, breath on his ear, lips on his throat, brushing his scent gland, tongue, wet and warm, washing over it, comforting, tormenting. He wants it. He wants it so f*cking badly but he can’t even name it. What does he want? He feels Izzy’s teeth, just barely grazing the skin of his throat, worrying at the flesh gently and he wants more, wants Izzy’s teeth in his throat, wants to feel him bite down, wants to see Izzy’s blood on his f*cking teeth, and he doesn’t even know why, all he knows is a little voice whispering in the dark, not him, not Izzy, something else, someone else, or some strange part of this new bond, alien and terrifying and f*cking irresistible…

Why not?

*

Stede shifts awkwardly—despite his best efforts, imagining the least arousing things he can possibly think of, including several extended meditations on his deeply humiliating wedding night, when he valiantly attempted to consummate his new marriage with a co*ck that refused to get more than half-hard for his new wife, the damned thing refuses to lose its interest in the alpha and omega snoring next to him. The pheromones no doubt saturating the air must play a role, he’s certain, but regardless, sleep seems out of the question. Well, there’s nothing for it—he’ll pop into the toilette, take care of himself, and come back. And no getting distracted this time! It’ll take a minute! Maybe two! Not that that’s all he’s capable of, of course, but he won’t drag it out the way he would with someone else involved. He’s a perfectly competent lover, evidence of the wedding night notwithstanding!

He passes a hand over his face, trying to get ahold of himself. He’s all in a tizzy! Those damned pheromones, no doubt. So, no time to waste…

He rolls to the side of the nest, trying not to jostle Ed and Izzy, tangled together in the centre of the soft pile of carefully arranged pillows and fabrics. They need their sleep, after all. He makes it to the edge and pushes himself to his feet, prick bobbing between his legs. Christ, if it gets any harder he’ll take his own bloody eye out. Right! He steps forward, eyes fixed on the bathroom door, goal-oriented.

“Ow! Bugger!”

His shin collides with the corner of a low table, the pain sharp and abrupt. Oops. Well, it was just one little exclamation. More of a loud whisper, really. And Ed and Izzy were both dead to the world last he checked, so with any luck…

“Bonnet?” Izzy’s sleep-muzzy voice, even hoarser than usual as he squints at Stede from where he rests on Ed’s chest. “Where the f*ck are you going, you twat?”

*

Ed’s knot slipped out of his c*nt some time ago, though Izzy hadn’t found it in himself to move, draped over Ed’s body, the sound of Ed’s heartbeat soothing him as he slept and woke in fits and starts. Heat simmers in his veins, threatening to rise again, overwhelming, exhausting, need like a summer storm raging inside him. Ed snores softly and Izzy whimpers, rocking against him, torn between wanting him to wake the f*ck up and knowing they both need rest.

The mattress dips and Izzy freezes, barely breathing, shrinking into the protection of his—f*cking unconscious, for f*ck’s sake—alpha. He cracks one eye open, ready to assess the threat and…

Oh.

Right.

f*cking Bonnet.

It’s hard to keep track of anything during his f*cking heat, let alone a beta whose smell is almost completely overwhelmed by the thick, heady blend of alpha and omega musk. Stede slides awkwardly to the edge of the nest, managing to avoid disturbing it too much. His foot catches a cushion, knocking it out of place, and he pauses, pulling back to its proper spot, fluffing it slightly. The rush of warmth Izzy feels at that is just another wave of heat rising in him, he tells himself—that’s what he’d tell anybody who asked, too, on pain of f*cking death.

Bonnet stands, his prick bobbing, hard between his legs and f*ck, he’s big for a beta. The sight of it makes Izzy’s mouth water, and he’ll be taking that fact to his grave, too, thank you very much. His c*nt pulses. Ed f*cking snores. God damn it.

“Bonnet!” he hisses. “Where do you think you’re going, you f*cking twat?”

Stede stops, startled, looking back at Izzy, wide-eyed.

“Oh!” he says, blushing. “I… um… well, that is, I was just… I was going to… the loo…”

Izzy raises an eyebrow, looking from Stede’s face to his co*ck and back again—he smirks knowingly. Stede’s adam's apple bobs as he swallows. Izzy slips off Ed’s chest and leans back in the nest, supported by the pillows piled against the wall.

“Going for a wank, were you?” he asks. Bonnet, f*cking absurdly for a man who has in the not too distant past f*cked both Izzy’s throat and his ass, stammers, somehow blushing even redder. Frankly, Izzy’s impressed he has enough blood in his body for that and his f*cking monster co*ck. Izzy trails a hand over his chest, fingers pulling at his nipples the way Stede had earlier, dragging his other hand down his belly, past his co*ck, hard and twitching against his stomach yet again. He grabs his left thigh, spreading his legs wide as Stede stares at him, open-mouthed. He reaches down, heart pounding, skin tingling with want as he spreads his own c*nt open with a wicked grin. “Fancy something better?”

“Oh…” Stede repeats, and for a moment Izzy thinks he’s about to insist on just having a bloody wank in the bathroom—then, Stede moves faster than Izzy would have guessed he could, at least without tripping over his own feet. Stede very nearly launches himself onto the bed, scrambling to Izzy, eyes never leaving his c*nt. Izzy laughs quietly, affectionately, then gasps as, instead of plunging his co*ck directly into Izzy’s waiting, wanting c*nt, he stretches out on his belly, head between Izzy’s legs.

“The f*ck do you think you’re–” The rest of Izzy’s sentence is lost to a moan as Stede grasps his legs firmly, pulling him forward so Stede can bury his face in his c*nt. “Ah, oh, f*ck, Bonnet!”

Stede wraps his lips around the folds of Izzy’s c*nt, sucking and kissing, dragging the flat of his tongue up from Izzy’s hole and back down again. Izzy’s thighs shake as Stede takes hold of his little co*ck, pumping it in one slick-wet hand even as he eats Izzy’s c*nt like a man starved. With his other hand, he reaches up, carefully pressing two fingers into Izzy’s c*nt even as he sucks and licks around the outside of it. He crooks his fingers, searching and stroking until he finds a spot that punches a desperate groan from Izzy—he stays on that spot, fingers working inside Izzy, hand gripping his co*ck, mouth playing with his folds and Izzy’s vision whites out.

“Oh– oh, f*ck!” Izzy shouts as he comes, c*nt squirting as his co*ck jerks in Stede’s hand. Stede works him through it, fingers still stroking inside him, hand gentle but firm on his c*nt, lips pressing soft kisses to it. Izzy shivers, boneless, out of breath, before finally reaching down and grasping Stede by the hair, pulling his head up, away from his overstimulated c*nt. Stede blinks at him, eyes glazed, face shining with slick.

“Sorry,” he says, because he really is the most absurd man Izzy’s ever met in his whole absurd f*cking life. “Too much?”

“Stede,” Izzy says firmly, or as firmly as he can when he sounds utterly f*cking wrecked. “Shut up and f*cking f*ck me.”

“Oh, right,” Stede replies, eyes glazed, c*nt drunk. Izzy doesn’t know whether he’s grateful or infuriated as Stede makes his slow way up Izzy’s body, kissing over his inner thighs, the soft curve of his lower belly, hands gripping his tit*, squeezing them. He kisses his way across Izzy’s belly before turning his attention to his chest, pausing to suck a bruise into the flesh there before laving his tongue over a nipple, playing with the bar bifurcating it, twisting and tugging until Izzy arches up with a shout, hands clutching at the back of Stede’s head. He whines as Stede makes his way up to his neck, sucking more bruises into the well-muscled curve of his chest, kissing along Izzy’s collarbone before finally reaching his throat. Izzy’s hips work helplessly and he clutches at Stede, desperate little sounds punctuating each gasp as Stede licks and sucks at his scent gland.

“Ah. f*ck, please,” he moans, tears starting in his eyes as he grinds up against Stede’s leg, slick soaking his thighs, co*ck hard against his stomach again. “Please, please, captain…”

His voice breaks on a sob and Stede hums softly.

“Shhh, darling, I’ll give you what you need…” he murmurs, and then reaches down, lining his co*ck up, rubbing it between the folds of Izzy’s c*nt as Izzy whines and pleads. He kisses the tears from Izzy’s face, and finally, just as Izzy is sure he’s about to go mad or f*cking die from this f*cking teasing, he catches Izzy’s lips in a kiss as he presses forward, plunging his co*ck into Izzy’s c*nt in one long, smooth thrust. Izzy chokes, hands clutching at Stede’s shoulders as his eyes roll back in his head. He barely even has time to think that this is going to go straight to the bastard’s head—and why the f*ck is he so f*cking big for a beta, anyway, it’s not fair—when Stede thrusts again, and every thought that isn’t about the co*ck pumping into him disappears. The pleasure lights up the inside of him, sparks rolling through his whole body as Stede f*cks him. Stede reaches down between them, taking hold of Izzy’s little co*ck again, working it in time with his thrusts and Izzy screams, shaking through another org*sm. Stede makes a shocked little sound, hips stuttering as Izzy’s c*nt clenches and pulsates around him.

“Oh, god!” he gasps as he comes in Izzy’s c*nt, shuddering as it milks his co*ck. “Oh, f*ck, Izzy, that’s…”

He slumps over Izzy’s chest, groaning. Izzy whines as Stede’s co*ck slips out of him with no knot to hold it in place and, f*ck, he’s going to need a knot again soon, no matter how good he feels right now, boneless in Stede’s arms, surrounded by silks and cushions and the rich, deep scent of his alpha.

Oh, f*ck. His alpha.

He feels it as Ed wakes, swimming up from the depths of sleep, unease and confusion and anger bubbling up around him. Izzy moves quickly, pushing Stede off him, making himself small in a corner of the nest, too late, of course it’s too bloody late.

Ed growls.

*

Ed’s sleep feels strange—it’s not unfamiliar, exactly. It’s hardly the first time he’s drunk himself to sleep. The soft texture of the shifting images in his mind as he dreamt of touching his mate, rocking against him, has gone, leaving him with the familiar jagged shape of his own mind. These dreams are familiar enough, flashes of memory and imagination, a plate smashing, rope wrapped around his hands, rain shining on cobblestones, the silence of his father’s struggle, blood on his hands after his first raid, after his first rut, blood on his hands and his hands on Izzy and…

He shifts, dreams and the world edging together, blending at the edges as he begins to wake. The smell of his mate fills his senses, warmth building in his belly as he hears Izzy’s sounds, little moans and whimpers as he’s f*cked and god, Ed wants him, wants to touch every f*cking inch of him, wants to kiss him, more than he’s ever wanted anything, has wanted it since the beginning and they never have, have they? The want twists, need turning to an ache, to an agony, to an anger so deep it scares him to f*cking death, and he wants to kiss his f*cking mate, but someone else has been kissing him, touching him, someone else is f*cking him right now and Ed is already growling when he wakes.

Izzy pushes himself back across the bed, pinning himself in the corner, and Ed’s eyes are on him instantly as he opens them. Anger flows over him, blanking his mind, nothing to him but rage and pain and sheer f*cking terror beneath it all as he pushes himself up, snarling, and lunges for Izzy, reaching out to grab and tear and break, agony howling in the heart of him, and somewhere, buried deep within, that boy’s voice in Benjamin f*cking Hornigold’s cursed f*cking cabin, so many lifetimes ago. I don’t want to hurt him…

He pulls up short, snarl cutting off abruptly as he stares at Izzy, trembling, frozen in the corner of his nest, heat scent still thick, laid over with just a touch of Stede’s soft sage and rosemary scent, and that’s… that’s his mates, his mates looking after each other while he was asleep, and he doesn’t understand the rage that twists like a worm in his belly and he doesn’t know if he’s never been this afraid in his life, or if he always f*cking has.

“Izzy,” is all he manages to get out, barely a f*cking whisper, before Stede has him by the scruff.

*

Stede is, on the whole, quite pleased with his progress in just about every area of pirating and pirate-adjacent subjects. He likes to think he’s become much more aware of his surroundings, and that his reflexes have improved significantly! Markedly! He’s quick! Agile! Approaching peak performance, even! Well, that may be a bit of a stretch, but still—he does feel as though, with all his recent self-improvement, he should have acquitted himself at least a little better in the confusing seconds that elapsed between the pleasant warmth of a satisfied omega lying under him, and him landing with a disoriented squawk on the other side of the nest.

There’s a flurry of movement as he pushes himself up and his gut turns to an icy, plummeting lump, because Edward is already over top of Izzy and he’s snarling and then… he stops.

Stede surges forward, not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. He scruffs Ed roughly, pulling him back from Izzy—what exactly he’s planning to do with an alpha in a bloody rage, well, he doesn't really think of that until he’s already got Ed by the back of the neck. Ed, by some minor miracle, doesn’t struggle, though he yelps as Stede pulls him across his lap. He’s had quite enough of this nonsense, and, well, even if the book didn’t suggest it, he can’t help but think that what’s good for the goose is good for the gander, or… or something like that, anyway.

“I’ve had quite enough of this, Edward!” he says, hoping he sounds more firm than panicked—authority! That’s the key! He thinks!

“Stede, what do you think you’re doing?” Ed splutters, sounding more than a little indignant. And, well, that’s a bit rich, isn’t it? As a matter of fact, Stede feels quite indignant at his indignation!

Ed squawks at the first strike of Stede’s hand on his bare ass.

“Honestly, Ed, after the way you’ve behaved, I’d say this is long overdue…”

Stede focuses on the spanking, putting all his frustration, all his worry, all his exhaustion and disappointment and hurt and sadness into it—he doesn’t know what the hell else to do with it. Ed squirms, kicking his feet out, trying to pull himself away and Stede pulls him in firmly, wrapping a hand in his hair to keep him in place, ignoring Ed as he shouts and swears, wriggling furiously. He can feel Ed’s co*ck firming up against his leg and, well, he supposes that’s not exactly surprising given how much Ed has enjoyed the light, playful spanking they’ve explored in, uh, other contexts. Ed flails trying to shove at Stede ineffectually, unable to get any leverage in this position, face down across Stede’s lap in the centre of the nest. He whines, a pleading little sound as Stede rains blows down on his swiftly reddening ass.

“Oh, hush,” Stede says, perfectly unimpressed. “You’ve been nothing but a– a brat and a bully, Edward Teach!”

Ed whines again, still writhing but not shoving at Stede any more. He fists his hands in the blankets around them instead, twisting and squeezing as his breathing takes on a panicked edge.

“And now look!” Stede adds, incensed. “Izzy’s finally started enjoying himself and as soon as you wake up you… you… well, you’ve scared him Ed! Quite a lot!”

Stede knows, as he says it, that it’s far from the worst indictment he could throw at Edward at the moment, but, well, it’s front of mind at the moment and so he says it. Ed doesn’t seem particularly inclined to take issue with it. Another little whine and he can hear the wetness in Ed’s breath now, little hitched sobs as he starts to cry.

“Stede…” he says, and Stede would have to be a much harder man to be totally unmoved by that small, broken voice, but, well, this is for Ed’s own good. And Izzy’s. And Stede’s if he’s being perfectly honest, but regardless, the primary point is that Stede has no intention of going easy on Edward. He lays a quick series of blows to the backs of Ed’s thighs, down one and back up the other and then over again. Ed sobs loudly, feet kicking again, clutching at the little fur rug Izzy placed at the centre of the nest, burying his face in it for comfort as Stede returns his attention to his ass, now glowing hot under his hand.

“The way you’ve treated Izzy is, well… it’s unforgivable, Ed,” Stede says, his own voice a bit rough as he says it. He knows it’s true. He doesn’t have to like it. But if anyone’s going to be forgiving Ed for whatever’s passed between him and Izzy, it certainly won’t be Stede. No matter how badly his chest aches when Ed sobs louder still, limp over Stede’s lap now, still clinging to that little rug that must smell so strongly of his mate…

“Stede, stop.”

Stede freezes, hand mid-air, poised over one of Ed’s thoroughly bruised ass cheeks. He looks over at Izzy, trying to read the tangle of emotions that pass over Izzy’s face. Izzy’s eyes are on Ed as he shuffles forward carefully. He takes hold of Stede’s wrist gently, pushing his hand back towards him.

“That’s enough,” he says, gruff despite his soft touch, and the pleading in his eyes as he finally looks at Stede. Stede nods, releasing his grip on Ed’s hair, far from certain he knows what ought to come next. Izzy seems more confident, somehow. He leans down beside Ed’s head, stroking his hair back. “Come on, Eddie.”

He slowly eases Ed off Stede’s lap, taking his head in his own, instead, petting him tenderly as he sobs, clinging to Izzy’s legs.

“Shh, Eddie, you’re alright—it’s not worth all this…” he speaks quietly, sounding a bit uncertain as Ed only cries harder. Ed pulls himself up Izzy’s body bit by bit, pressing his face into Izzy’s leg, then the dip of his hip and the soft flesh of his belly, and it takes Stede a moment to realize that he’s pressing little kisses everywhere he pauses, still crying, mumbling something incoherent as he finally pulls Izzy into his arms, pressing him down into the nest again. Izzy goes with a quiet oof, staring at Ed as though he’s gone out of his mind. He gasps as Ed buries his face against Izzy’s mating mark, kissing and licking, even nipping lightly as Izzy gasps again, bringing his hand to the back of Ed’s head. Ed’s still mumbling. Stede inches closer, trying to pick out the words.

“Ed, Eddie, I don’t know what you’re saying to me,” Izzy says, sounding utterly at sea, and, well, if there was ever an apter metaphor Stede certainly hasn’t thought of it, and he’s particularly good at apt metaphors, if he does say so himself. Ed pulls back from Izzy’s throat, drawing a ragged breath, tears still pouring down his face, voice thick when he speaks, babbles, really, quick and almost toneless.

“Izzy, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please, I love you…”

Izzy’s eyes widen, mouth dropping open, stammering for a response—Ed doesn’t give him the chance to formulate one. He presses forward, urgent, clumsy, and pulls Izzy into a kiss.

*

Izzy freezes when Ed first moves towards him, the snarl too familiar, the cold rage pouring through their bond paralyzing, overwhelming in its clarity and for a moment he thinks, this is it, he’ll kill me this time, and it feels like inevitability.

And then Ed stops. Anger bleeds out into confusion and hurt and beneath all of it, sheer, blinding terror.

“Izzy…” Ed says, and then bloody Stede bloody Bonnet grabs him by the scruff and drags him back, away from Izzy. Izzy can’t move, can’t f*cking breathe even, his own terror indistinguishable from Ed’s and he wants to f*cking cry, or is that Ed, too?

“This is long overdue…”

Stede’s words barely register, but the slap that follows almost makes Izzy yelp—it’s not that he can feel it, not really, but he feels the shock, the humiliation and anger and arousal and on some strange level, relief. Ed’s relieved to give up control, to be punished even and god, Izzy’s co*ck throbs as the heady co*cktail of his alpha’s feelings pour through him, urgent and intimate. He pants, need rising in him again, fever burning across his skin and he can’t separate one moment from the next, his vision swimming, mind fuzzy.

Ed sobs. Izzy sucks in a breath, fighting for clarity, forcing down the confusion of feelings rolling through him. Eddie… Eddie’s crying. His heartbreak rolls through Izzy like a wave, an ache so intense it makes him dizzy, bowled over by it.

“Stede, that’s enough.”

He almost doesn’t recognize his own voice. Stede stops instantly and Izzy drags himself forward to pull his mate into his arms. He murmurs comforting nonsense as Ed wraps himself around his body, arms and legs gangly and awkward and desperate. Ed’s saying something but he can’t catch it, too busy struggling to hold on to the tenuous boundaries between him and Ed, the feelings pouring into him intensified by their skin to skin contact. He gasps at the feeling of Ed’s lips on his bond bite, desire shooting through him like an electric shock and Ed’s still f*cking mumbling.

“Eddie, I don’t know what you’re saying…”

And Izzy’s never had much of an imagination—it’s hardly the first time Ed’s surprised him. But it’s the first time he doesn’t have a f*cking clue what to do about it, because Ed looks up at him with those big, shining f*ck off eyes that Izzy can’t say no to, tears pouring down his face, and says, “Izzy, please, I’m sorry—I love you…”

Izzy only has a moment to wonder if he’s actually died, or just gone stark raving f*cking mad, and then Ed’s kissing him. Ed’s kissing him. Izzy sobs, just once, into Ed’s mouth, and then wraps his arms around his mate’s neck, pulling him in close. Ed blankets him with his body, still kissing him, pulling back for an instant to take a breath and then diving back in, clumsy and desperate and everything Izzy’s never even let himself f*cking dream.

Ed’s co*ck nudges against his thigh and Izzy moans, wrapping his leg around Ed’s waist, letting his other thigh splay out to the side, and Ed thrusts into him. He groans into the kiss, rocking against Ed, impossibly close, joined everywhere they can possibly be joined, arms and legs and mouth and co*ck and c*nt and…

“Izzy, Izzy, please, I want… I want…”

Ed pulls back for just a moment, moaning the words as fear and need pour through the bond, even as his knot starts to swell in Izzy’s c*nt, and for once in his life, Izzy doesn’t have a single doubt. He wraps a hand in Ed’s hair, dragging his head to the side to expose his scent gland, and then yanks Ed forward, driving his teeth into it, iron and salt bursting over his tongue as Ed screams, knot locking them together, and Izzy comes, shaking uncontrollably as pleasure rolls over him in waves.

Chapter 13

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

Stede gasps as Izzy’s teeth break Ed’s skin. He freezes, thinking for a moment that Izzy’s finally decided to rip Ed’s throat out and be done with it. The thought occurs to him distantly, as if through a thick fog—it can’t be more than a second or two, but for Stede, it might as well be hours.

If Ed dies, Izzy dies too… Stede’s mind whispers it just as he sucks in another panicked breath, paralyzed as he watches a drop of blood roll down Ed’s shoulder from the place where Izzy’s… where he’s…

Ed’s hips stutter—he comes with a howl, wrapping himself around Izzy, clinging to him as Izzy shakes, tears streaming down his face. It seems to go on forever. Finally, as the two of them lie still, locked together by arms and legs and knot and c*nt, Izzy slowly releases his teeth from Ed’s throat. Ed whimpers softly, and Izzy licks the bite, nuzzling Ed’s jaw with his cheek, comforting his mate. Izzy’s purr is louder than Stede’s ever heard it, a fierce, proud sound. And then, stuttering and uncertain, an answering purr starts in Ed’s chest. Stede’s eyes widened. Nothing in any of the extremely scientific—and not at all p*rnographic, thank you very much— literature about alphas he’s studied in the past six months ever mentioned the possibility of an alpha purring.

Of course, none of them mentioned an omega giving an alpha a mating bite, either, and this isn’t even the first time he’s encountered such a thing, though it is the first time he’s seen it, up close and personal, as it were.

It’s quite thrilling, actually.

He’s beginning to think some of his books are less scientific than they claim.

Upon reflection, some of them are definitely p*rnography.

At the very least, they could all use a very thorough update. Perhaps—with Ed and Izzy’s permission, of course—he could write a little essay on the subject.

Ed and Izzy stare at each other, almost shell shocked. Stede shifts, feeling a little awkward. It all seems… well, a bit intimate all of a sudden. And that’s silly. It’s been intimate all along. He’s being silly. Still, something twists in his gut—the feeling that he’s now very much outside of this, and looking in.

“Gosh,” he says, all brittle cheer. “That was… well, that was something, wasn’t it?”

Neither Izzy nor Ed give any indication of hearing him. Ed raises a hand, stroking Izzy’s cheek gently. Izzy traces Ed’s lips with his fingers.

Stede slowly edges out of the nest. He feels like a voyeur and, well, he can’t pretend it’s not having an effect—his co*ck is so bloody hard that he gets a bit dizzy when he stands. But this isn’t… That is, they don’t… Well, they can’t possibly…

Stede shakes his head. It’s no use agonizing about it.

“Right,” he says, cheer so brittle that he hears it crumbling before he can get the word out as he backs away from the nest. “I’ll just… I’ll leave you to it, then. For a bit. I’m just… I’m just going to…”

Ed leans down, catching Izzy’s lips in a slow, tender kiss.

Stede turns and flees into the en suite.

*

As soon as Izzy’s teeth close over Ed’s scent gland, the rush of feeling overwhelms him—it pulls him under like a tidal wave, pleasure and pain and anger and love rolling over both of them and tumbling them along the ocean floor together. Together. If Ed’s bite was clarity, this… this is… unity. Bits and pieces of memories not his own burst into his mind—hands wrapped around rope, pulling tight as a man struggles. A quick flash of a mother’s smile. Blood and blood-red silk. Wind in his hair on the deck of a ship, sun setting on the horizon. Stars wheeling overhead. The sound of rain on the waves. And suddenly—disorientingly—the sight of himself, glowing, surely prettier than he ever really was, kneeling in Hornigold’s cabin, gold collar—god, he hated that f*cking collar—glinting around his throat.

Izzy blinks, coming back to himself. Ed stares down at him, eyes wide, glinting with tears as he strokes Izzy’s cheek softly. Izzy’s fingers trace Ed’s lips, wondering, overwhelmed. Ed shudders as whatever bits and pieces of Izzy’s memories the bond has cursed him with burrow into his mind. He wants to apologize, to beg Ed to just forget whatever he’s seen, to tell him it doesn’t matter. When he opens his mouth, though, Ed shakes his head almost imperceptibly, and then kisses him. Izzy doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything like it, except perhaps those few, nightmarish times he’s almost drowned. Ed’s lips on his feel like the first, desperate gasp of air after he’s dragged from the water’s icy embrace, like sunlight on his face after he’d given up hope of ever feeling it again. Izzy kisses him back, feeling clumsy, awkward as he sobs into Ed’s mouth. Ed breaks the kiss with a sob of his own, then laughs, his tears falling onto Izzy’s face even as he reaches up to wipe them away. He wipes Izzy’s cheeks, then laughs again. Izzy laughs too, feeling almost hysterical. He feels as though a weight he didn’t know he was carrying has abruptly lifted, its absence making him stumble. He drags his fingers through Ed’s hair and wraps a hand around the back of his head, pulling him down for another kiss. Ed’s relief flows through their bond, mirroring and compounding Izzy’s. They kiss for a long time, lost in the pleasure of their new bond, sweeter still for the melancholy ache they both feel—they could have had this all along. They could have been this to each other all along. When they finally draw back again to catch their breath, Izzy pulls Ed down into his arms, nuzzling his hair, breathing in the scent of his mate, cannabis and vetiver and that faint, herbal trace of their other mate, of…

“Wait a minute,” Izzy says, blinking as he fights to clear his vision.

“Hmm?” Ed says, nuzzling his own bond mark in Izzy’s throat and, god, if that isn’t f*cking distracting, but there’s something missing, and Izzy worries at it like an aching tooth.

“Bonnet,” he mutters, after a long moment during which Ed traces the bond mark with his tongue—it’s almost enough to drive every other thought from his head. Almost, but not quite. One of his mates isn’t in the bloody nest.

“Hmm?” Ed says again, barely paying attention as he strokes a hand down Izzy’s chest, dragging fingers through his chest hair, tracing patterns through it before grabbing a handful of firm flesh and squeezing. Izzy groans. God. He can’t f*cking believe he’s interrupting this for that spoiled, infuriating, self-important, sweet f*cking idiot. He grabs Ed’s wrist, trying to focus. Ed blinks at him, confused but attentive.

“Where’s Bonnet?”

*

Stede splashes his face with cool water, trying to gather his wits. He’s being ridiculous. He knows that. He’s perfectly self-aware, thank you very much, no matter what Mary might have said, or Izzy, or Jim, or Lucius, or even Buttons on one particularly memorable occasion. All he needs is a moment to clear his head and then he’ll go right back in. He’s still supposed to be keeping an eye on Ed and Izzy after all, though the way they looked at each other when he left suggests his presence may be superfluous at this point. Still. He made a promise.

He splashes his face again, leaning over the basin and watching droplets pool and coalesce in the centre of it, shimmering in the light of one guttering candle.

God, he’s being so dramatic. He’s not usually dramatic! Or, well, obviously in theatrical contexts he’s dramatic, he has a natural affinity for the ars dramatis, naturally, but, well, he likes to think that in…matters of the heart as it were… he’s inclined to be, at the very least, steady. Reliable. Not prone to overreactions! He supposes Mary might have something to say about that as well.

Stede sighs, meeting his own gaze in the mirror. It’s not as if he didn’t see this coming. The past few months with Ed were magical. The past day with Izzy… well, he never dreamed…

And now he’s only gone and gotten attached.

Stupid.

He glares at his reflection. He saw this coming. He did. For all their difficulties, Ed and Izzy have been together for more than thirty years. He knew from the start that even if he did manage to save Ed from the crew, this wasn’t a story that would end with him and Edward—let alone him and Edward and Izzy—sailing off into the sunset together. They don’t need him. Well, that might be a little premature. If nothing else, Jim will probably still want him in the room with them when they’re… Oh, bollocks. Stede blinks back tears, splashing his face again. He’s being ridiculous. It’s just that he knows he’s on borrowed time now. A week or two, maybe a month if Jim is feeling particularly unforgiving, and they’ll all see what he’s just seen. Ed and Izzy are perfect together. Complete. A unit.

What possible use could they have for him?

*

Ed doesn’t know what he’s expecting when Izzy’s teeth lock into his scent gland. Hell, part of him still expects Izzy to rip his f*cking throat out. He wouldn’t even mind, not really. Izzy’s got Stede to take care of him now, and Jim, and a whole ship of alphas and betas and omegas who’ll all make sure he has whatever he needs for the rest of his life. He doesn’t need Ed. He never did.

The rush of it is overwhelming. The bright burst of pain is first, burning his mind clean like a fog breaking before the rising sun. He can’t tell it apart from pleasure as he comes, Izzy’s c*nt milking him again, draining him dry. Images pour into his mind, baffling, out of order snippets, bits and pieces of memory, sensations, ideas.

A hand in his hair, stroking gently, callouses catching the strands, a flash of emerald and the scent of the sea, of wildflowers and rain and that’s Izzy’s mother, Ed realizes, all he has left of her, a fragile amalgamation of impressions at the back of his mind. He sees streaks of coal in snow, hears the sound of babies crying, omegas screaming as they labour, blood on Izzy’s hands but so young, younger than Ed ever saw them, and it’s the blood of bringing life, not taking it. And then fever and fear and Benjamin f*cking Hornigold and Ed would scream if he had a voice but there’s nothing left of him, he’s a ghost, a f*cking revenant on the edge of Izzy’s mind, spread out before him like a storm tossed sea.

And then he sees himself, f*ck, he was never that young, was he? Black hair and brown skin and embarrassingly big eyes, bad enough now but absolutely absurd when he was a lad, looking like a f*cking baby cow as he stares at Izzy for the first time, mouth hanging open—”You’ll catch flies,” an unfamiliar voice whispers, and god, that’s Izzy’s mum, too, isn’t it? She sounds rough, like Iz, impossibly fond, a tender echo from a woman who died years before he ever laid eyes on her son. He sees himself through Izzy’s eyes and there’s no way he was ever that f*cking pretty, but he feels Izzy’s heart beat faster, and then he feels his own hand on Izzy’s flank, the strange rush of tenderness and… oh f*ck, that was it. Izzy’s been gone ever since, never had a f*cking hope in hell of getting away, never even tried and every glance, every word, only ever made it worse. Izzy loves him. Izzy loves him. He feels it all the way to his bones, to the f*cking core of him, an ache, it f*cking hurts, and Ed doesn’t know how in the f*ck he never realized he loves Izzy back. He always has. Since the moment he laid eyes on him.

He sees a flash of Hornigold’s face, red and straining as he f*cks Izzy, sees his mouth fall open as the knife slices through his belly, you’ll catch flies, and blood on Izzy’s hands again, and this blood brings life too, gives it back as Izzy smears it on Ed’s smooth, unblemished face, pride swelling in him as though Ed killed the bastard himself. He should have. He f*cking wishes he did.

He sees his hair drift in the wind, shining in the light of the setting sun as the waves burst bright like flame. He sees the stars wheel overhead. He stares down at Izzy, awestruck, devastated, adoring. Izzy. His Izzy.

“Bonnet.”

He doesn’t know what the f*ck Izzy’s talking about. Hard to pay attention, really, when Izzy smells so f*cking good. He lowers his head to Izzy’s bond mark, licking it gently, hands roving over Izzy’s body, the scent of his rising fever making Ed dizzy. Izzy clears his throat—his hand closes around Ed’s wrist, squeezing just firmly enough that Ed pulls back, focusing. His mate needs something.

“Where’s Bonnet?”

*

Ed sits up slowly—he still looks confused. Izzy can’t blame him. He feels a bit like he just got hit upside the head with an oar, too. His head spins, and more than that, he feels vulnerable. Raw. That’s why he needs both his f*cking mates in the f*cking nest where they belong.

He’s not sure when he started thinking of Bonnet as his mate, and he’s pretty sure he’ll never f*cking live it down when he comes back to his senses, but that’s a problem for future him. Right now, he just wants both of them. Ed and Bonnet. Ed and… and Stede. Ugh. God that’s f*cking embarrassing.

Izzy shimmies out from under Ed, ignoring his little whine, and the way he starts to shiver as soon as they’re not in contact anymore. He can smell Stede, hidden away in the f*cking head again, and what the f*ck is he playing at? It’s way too long for a piss. Too long for a sh*t, for that matter, unless Stede has some serious gastrointestinal issues. Well, Izzy could sympathize with that at least. But whatever it is, it’s past time the bastard came back to their f*cking nest. And of course Izzy’s f*cking leg is completely out of reach. Well. He’s gotten farther with less. He eases forward, preparing to launch himself towards a chair a couple of feet away—with any luck he can catch himself before he hits the ground and then make his way across the room by bracing himself on the furniture. He never thought he’d be so grateful for Stede’s ridiculously maximalist approach to decorating.

Ed’s arms wrap around him from behind and he starts, so absorbed in the logistics of his journey across the cabin he’d lost track of where his alpha was. He whines softly as Ed nuzzles his neck, hands roaming over his stomach and up his chest to tug at the barbells in his nipples.

“f*ck, Eddie,” he says, breathy, torn between the need to be f*cked and the need to have both his mates f*cking him. Ed hums, a low rumble that seems to vibrate all the way down to Izzy’s core. His arms tighten around Izzy and before Izzy can do more than squawk in indignant surprise, he stands, taking Izzy with him. Izzy twists in his arms, looking into his face. Ed smiles, supporting Izzy’s ass with one hand so he can wrap his good leg around Ed’s waist. His c*nt throbs, so f*cking close to his alpha’s co*ck, hard and needy where it presses into him. Ed spins, pressing Izzy into the wall and kissing him deeply. Izzy moans into his mouth, hands coming up to tangle in Ed’s hair, pulling him in tighter, hips starting to work involuntarily. He whimpers, bereft, as Ed pulls back. Ed smirks at him.

“Right, Iz,” he says, pinching Izzy’s ass cheek lightly, smug smile widening when Izzy makes a shocked little noise, c*nt throbbing almost painfully now. “Let’s go get Stede.”

*

Stede splashes his face one last time—even he can admit it’s getting a little excessive. He grabs one of his face oils from the little basket he keeps by the basin and adds a couple of drops to his skin, rubbing them in vigorously. No need to look any more haggard than he needs to. He pulls a face as he takes in the bags under his eyes—some sleep really wouldn’t go amiss.

Well, then.

Time to go back out.

He’s going.

Any moment now.

He squares his shoulders, girds his loins—oh god, that metaphor doesn’t seem quite right, does it? Maybe something more along the lines of…

The door bangs open, ricocheting off the wall. Stede squeaks, then shouts as his little basket of oils nearly tumbles to the floor. He just barely manages to catch it, half flinging himself into the basin, thoroughly splashing himself as he flails and finally stumbles and sits down with a thump, oils cradled to his chest protectively.

Ed stands in the doorway, holding Izzy much as Stede holds his little toiletries basket. Stede feels his face go hot and he forces what he hopes is a confident smile. Perhaps they’ll think he meant to sit down just then.

“Ah!” he says, and his voice isn’t usually that high, is it? Damn. “Hello! Um. Do… do you need something?”

Ed tilts his head, frowning.

“f*ck you playing at, mate?” he asks, and Stede thinks that’s a bit rich coming from him, actually! Ed is in no position to– to question the normalcy of anyone’s behaviour at the moment, and in fact, Stede has a good mind to…

Izzy whines. He shifts in Ed’s arms, wriggling, pressing his face into Ed’s neck. A low groan rumbles in Ed’s chest and Izzy whines again. The scent of his heat pours off him, filing the small space, making Stede’s head spin—Ed’s co*ck is hard, and he rocks it between Izzy’s legs, not pushing into him yet, teasing as Izzy whimpers and gasps, and Stede would be completely at a loss about why they’re not back in the bloody nest if he weren’t completely at a loss for… well, for anything at the moment. And then Izzy shifts in Ed’s arms. He twists, looking back at Stede, eyes dark, glassy, hypnotic. He stretches a hand out towards Stede with a plaintive little moan. Stede’s jaw drops. He doesn’t understand. Izzy whines again, confused, needy, and Ed laughs, a soft, dark sound.

“Come on, Stede,” he says. “Are you gonna help me f*ck our omega or not?”

*

Izzy shifts in Ed’s arms, thoughts heat-fogged. His c*nt aches. He pushes his face into his alpha’s throat, filling his lungs with the scent of him, but something’s still missing… He pulls back and whines, confused. He catches just a hint of the scent he’s looking for, tastes it in the air and he twists awkwardly, reaching out for his other mate.

“...help me f*ck our omega or not?”

He barely catches Ed’s words, most of the sense of them escaping him, but it doesn’t matter. Stede scrambles forward before the words are even out of Ed’s mouth. He very nearly trips over his own feet and Izzy has a vague sense that he should have something to say about that. Nothing clever comes to mind, though, and then Stede’s arms wrap around both him and Ed, awkward and too much and exactly what he needs. Izzy keeps one arm around Ed’s neck, reaching back to pull Stede tight against him, too. His hips rock, c*nt making his thighs slick as Stede kisses his shoulders, the back of his neck, the side of his throat. Ed takes his cheek in one hand, gentle, almost painfully tender, and tilts his head up for a kiss. Izzy whimpers into his alpha’s mouth, need driving everything from his mind but the feel of their hands, their lips, and the ache of this empty c*nt.

“We should– that is, wouldn’t he prefer…?” Stede speaks breathlessly, barely pulling his lips away from Izzy’s skin long enough to speak. Ed breaks the kiss, ignoring Izzy’s whine.

“The nest?” he asks, apparently reading Stede’s f*cking mind. “Bit late for that, mate—you shouldn’t have stayed away so long…”

Stede makes an embarrassed little sound.

“Then what…?”

He doesn’t need to finish the question. Ed, leaning back against the doorframe, f*cks into Izzy’s c*nt in one long stroke. Izzy screams, back arching, clawing at Stede’s shoulder, the back of Ed’s neck, anything he can reach.

“Oh,” Stede says, wrapping an arm around Izzy’s chest now, looking over his shoulder to watch as Ed’s co*ck plunges in and out, fast and hard.

“What are you waiting for, mate?” Ed asks, grunting. “Come on in.”

Stede makes a panicked noise in the back of his throat.

“Oh! God! I– both of us? In the same– Ed, that can’t possibly be…”

And Izzy doesn’t know what the f*ck Stede’s on about, but he does know that whatever it is, it’s the reason he doesn’t currently have both his mates’ co*cks in his c*nt right now. He growls, annoyed, tugging at Stede, arching his spine. Ed grins, grabbing his chin firmly and turning his head back for another kiss. Izzy growls again when Ed pulls back again.

“Think he knows what he wants, Stede,” he says. He wraps a hand in Izzy’s hair, yanking his head back, licking up the length of his throat, latching onto his still-tender bond bite and sucking until Izzy screams.

“I– well, when you put it that way–”

Stede wraps both arms around Izzy’s waist, holding him steady—Ed slows his thrusts for just a moment, long enough for Izzy to whine in protest, and then Stede’s co*ck presses against the entrance of his c*nt. He moans, and then it pushes in. Izzy goes limp, mouth open on a silent scream as both his mates fill him.

“That’s it, Iz, we’ve got you…” Ed speaks softly, and then they’re both f*cking him, two strong sets of arms bouncing him on their co*cks as he shakes and wails, slick pouring out of him, co*ck drooling as it slaps against his belly. Ed grunts, hands tightening on Izzy’s waist. “f*ck, Stede, ‘m gonna pop a knot soon…”

“Oh, f*ck, Ed…” Stede gasps—he reaches between them taking Izzy’s co*ck in his hand, pumping it demandingly. Izzy howls, c*nt so full, stretched tight, singing with pleasure and just a touch of shimmering pain, co*ck hot and hard and sparking in Stede’s hand, and then he’s coming, sobbing, c*nt contracting around his mates’ co*cks. Stede grunts as he comes, then squeaks, slightly panicked, as Ed’s expanding knot forces his softening prick out of Izzy’s c*nt. Izzy whimpers at the loss, then gasps in pleasure as Ed thrusts deeper into him, knot filling him up even as Ed groans, coming deep inside him. Ed and Stede rest their foreheads against each other, eyes closed, Izzy suspended between them.

“Right…” Stede says, slowly catching his breath. Ed hums in agreement. Izzy makes an irritated sound.

“Are we just gonna f*cking stand here?” he demands, the need to be back in his nest returning full force now that he’s got his alpha’s knot in his c*nt, and both his mates’ seed filling him up. Ed growls, though there’s not much heat behind it—nothing but mellow affection and a touch of arousal pours through their bond. Still, Izzy squirms as Ed palms his still-bruised ass.

“Looking for another spanking, omega?” he asks. Izzy pants, whining softly, and leans forward to lick Ed’s bond bite as his c*nt throbs. Ed pinches his ass sharply, laughing as Izzy yelps, then pouts up at him. Ed turns his eyes back to Stede. “Come on—let’s get him back to his nest before he throws a f*cking wobbler.”

*

Stede is uncharacteristically quiet as they settle into the nest. Frustratingly vague as the feelings Izzy senses through his bond with Ed may be, he finds himself wishing he had any such insight into Stede’s state of mind. He opens his mouth, tasting the air, trying to pick apart Stede’s scent for clues—it’s impossible, the faintest hint of sage overwhelmed by his heat and Ed’s rut.

“Alright, Iz?” Ed, knot still locked in Izzy’s c*nt, nuzzles his jaw, brushing past the bond bite—Izzy shivers. His head is clearer now that he’s knotted, but he still feels distractible, barely able to follow a thought from start to finish. He and Ed lie face to face, Ed on top of him, bracketing him with his arms. Stede lies beside them. He stares up at the ceiling, frowning, pensive. It’s driving Izzy mad.

“You’re driving me f*cking mad,” he blurts, turning his head away from Ed to glare at Stede. Stede startles, then glares back at him.

“What? I’m just lying here!” he insists, as if he doesn’t know exactly what he’s f*cking doing. Izzy shifts, wishing he could get out from under Ed and into Bonnet’s f*cking face.

“Oh, just lying there, are you?” he sneers, “Like f*ck you are, you’re f*cking lying there moping!”

“I am not moping!” Stede shrieks, indignant. “I was lying here perfectly peacefully, calmly contemplating, not that you’d know anything about that!”

Izzy snorts—Ed opens his mouth to say something and Izzy glares at him fiercely enough that Ed’s mouth snaps shut with a click. Good. This is between him and Bonnet.

“Oh you were contemplating, were you?” he mocks. “And what specifically were your f*cking contemplations about, eh?”

Stede sniffs—prissy bastard.

“I really don’t see how that’s any of your business,” he says primly, turning his eyes back to the ceiling. Pouting. Izzy’s blood f*cking boils.

“None of my business?” he repeats, incredulously.

“Izzy, f*cking leave it,” Ed says, a hint of a growl behind it that would usually be enough to make Izzy back down, for the time being at least. Not f*cking this time, though.

“None of my f*cking business?” he says again, voice pitching up. “So, what, because I’m a f*cking omega, you don’t owe me any f*cking explanations, is that it, beta?”

Stede’s eyes are back on him in an instant—the bastard has the cheek, the sheer f*cking gall to look confused.

“What? No, that’s not–” he stammers. Izzy presses his advantage.

“No?” he snaps. “Then maybe you can explain to me how it’s none of my business that my f*cking mate, who just f*cking absconded in the middle of my f*cking heat and had to be f*cking fetched to do his f*cking job, is now lying in my f*cking nest, looking like someone just made him shoot his f*cking dog?”

“Hey!” Ed exclaims, and Izzy glances at him apologetically before turning his glare on Stede again. Stede stares back at him, mouth agape, eyes wide.

“I– I’m not your mate,” he says, sounding utterly lost. The words hit Izzy like a bullet to the gut, and lord knows he’s taken too many of those. A pained whimper slips out of him before he can contain it. He shrinks, feeling suddenly trapped by the heavy bulk of Ed’s body, rather than comforted. God. He feels so f*cking stupid. Stede isn’t even here because he wants to be—he’s here to protect Ed, not Izzy. He’s Ed’s mate. Izzy’s just… just some f*cking omega, stealing his mate away, ruining his life like he f*cking ruins everything. Stede backs towards the edge of the nest, eyes still wide, staring at Izzy like he’s never f*cking seen him before, and Izzy’s heart is in his throat—he just hopes Ed’s knot goes down quick, because as soon as it does he’s going to f*cking throw up.

“I… I should… I have to go…” Stede gasps. Izzy cringes, turning his head so he doesn’t have to see the look on Stede’s face anymore. He hears him scramble out of the nest, hears him stumble and sit down hard—stupid bastard must be backing towards the door, god, he’s going to f*cking hurt himself, but it’s none of Izzy’s business. None of his f*cking business…

“Stede.”

Ed’s voice is firm, a command in it, even though that sh*t doesn’t work on betas. Izzy whimpers, attention back on Ed, though Ed’s not looking at him either, he’s looking over at Stede. At his actual mate, the one he bloody chose, not…

“Stede, will you get your ass back here? He’s f*cking spiralling.”

Izzy whimpers again, humiliation burning white hot up the length of his spine, god, even properly mated his alpha can’t handle his f*cking bullsh*t, he’s so f*cking stupid–

Ed’s hand on his cheek pulls him back into himself. He’s breathing too quickly—for a moment he doesn’t understand, lost in the shadow of his own terror. For a moment he expects Ed to hit him. He sees a flash of pain in Ed’s eyes, opens his mouth to apologize, to beg for forgiveness. Ed kisses him instead. It’s slow, almost painfully tender. Izzy sobs, just once, wrapping his arms tight around Ed’s neck. Ed pulls back after a long moment, then leans down to press a gentle kiss to Izzy’s bond bite. Izzy sobs again, little shivers of pleasure running through him, dulling the panic that makes his heart pound. He feels the bed dip as Stede sits down on it again. Ed sighs and wraps his arms around Izzy’s waist, careful not to tug at the knot as he shifts them, slowly sitting up, Izzy perched in his lap, facing away from Stede. Small mercies.

“Alright,” Ed says wearily. “Can’t believe I’m f*cking saying this, but I think we need to bloody… talk it through.”

*

“Hang on, I don’t think that goes there–” “Lucius, you should give it more–” “Wait, does it really get that wet–” “Look, all I’m saying is I’ve seen Captain Bonnet naked and you could definitely be more generous with–”

“ALRIGHT!” Lucius’s shout finally breaks through the din of the rest of the crew, huddled around him as he draws on one of the extra pages they’ve pasted into Stede’s book. “Will everyone give me some bloody space, please. God, I’m starting to think the illustrations were a mistake…”

“Aw, don’t say that,” Archie says, patting him on the shoulder consolingly. “I think you’re doing a good job!”

Lucius groans, dropping his head into his hands.

“That is not what I was worried… no, you know what? Fine, great, thanks so much, I really– wait. When did you see Stede naked?”

Archie grins, pleased to contribute.

“Oh, see, this one time, I was feeling kind of nostalgic for my snake cult! And I got my hands on some eggs, because I thought it would be cool if we had some snakes on board, and so then I needed someplace for them to hatch, so I went into the Captain’s cabin and I–”

“You know what?” Lucius exclaims, throwing his hands up abruptly. “I don’t think I want to hear the rest of this story, actually.”

Frenchie peers over his shoulder curiously, pointing to one of the many neat annotations Lucius has added in the margins.

“What’s this one say, then?” he asks, attempting to spin his own quill between his fingers and promptly dropping it. Lucius sighs.

“Well, this whole section just goes on and on about how dramatic omegas are and how you can’t trust them to understand their own experiences, so where we haven’t just ripped out those pages, I’m adding little notes reminding them that omegas are actually, you know, people, and that they aren’t any more or less reliable or dramatic than anyone else.”

“I mean, Izzy’s pretty dramatic…” Archie interjects, helpful as always. Lucius rolls his eyes.

“Yes, but that’s not because he’s an omega—it’s because he’s Izzy,” he says.

The Swede, also hovering awkwardly close, frowns, trying to follow along.

“But isn’t that a little basic?” he asks, tilting his head to one side. “Don’t the captains already know that Izzy is a person?”

Jim grimaces, patting the Swede on the shoulder.

“I wouldn’t count on it, El Sueco,” they say, shaking their head. “Remember, this is Ed and Stede we’re talking about.”

The Swede’s eyes widen.

“Oh,” he says. “Lucius, maybe you should write it a few more times, just to make sure…”

“Way ahead of you,” Lucius says, setting his pen down with a flourish. “And I think I’ve done just about everything I can with this page, so… Who’s up next?”

*

Stede settles on the side of the bed awkwardly. He feels silly, and small. He feels like he’d still very much like to run away, thank you very much. He wishes he still had that stupid book, even if it is largely nonsense. It’s more scientific than any of the other options in his rather extensive collection of “literature” on the subject of alphas and omegas. At least it would give him something, some guide to understanding why Izzy would say what he said.

A kind of transference, perhaps? Something about his heat and the stress and Stede’s proximity when he and Ed were bonded…

Well, whatever it is, he’s confused. Clearly. Ed is his mate. And he’s Ed’s! And Stede is… nobody’s.

And that’s fine!

He’s fine with it.

It’s fine.

“Stede.”

Ed sounds put out. And that seems a bit unfair, honestly, Stede’s been doing his best—in fact, he thinks he’s been doing quite well! A damn sight better than Ed, that’s for sure! Of the two of them, Stede is easily the more likely to come through this unstabbed by Jim, and that says quite a lot, actually–

“Stede.”

Stede clears his throat, blinking rapidly. He sniffs and then turns to look at Ed and Izzy, expression carefully neutral. Ed raises an eyebrow at him, as though he’s the one being ridiculous. He’s not being ridiculous! Ed’s being ridiculous!

Izzy doesn’t look at him at all. He’s in Ed’s lap, leg wrapped around his waist, truncated thigh splayed out, c*nt still locked on Ed’s knot. He makes himself as small as possible, face buried in Ed’s shoulder, arms tucked in. The back of his neck and the tips of his ears are bright red. If Stede didn’t know better, he’d say Izzy looked embarrassed. Maybe he is. Stede would certainly be embarrassed if… if some hormone-induced madness made him claim that… that the most absurd man he’d ever met was his bloody husband. Izzy doesn’t even like him, for god’s sake!

Ed watches him, eyes certain.

“Look, Stede…” he says softly. He seems nervous. Oh god. Did he call Stede back just so he could end things properly? Stede swallows, trying to project an air of confidence. Authority! Strength! He can take it! Ed wraps his eyes tighter around Izzy, like he’s looking for comfort. “Are… I mean… You’re my mate, right?”

Stede swallows again—is that too much swallowing?, he wonders. He can’t remember how much he swallows in less fraught circ*mstances. He usually thinks about it less, he supposes.

“Of course!” he says, then freezes. Is he? Or is Ed’s new bond with Izzy the end of that, too? “Well, I mean, I… I was…”

Ed’s eyes widen. His arms tighten around Izzy reflexively. He looks almost panicked. Stede shifts, uncomfortable. He doesn’t know what Ed wants from him. He doesn’t know what either of them want from him.

“Oh,” Ed says. His lip trembles a little, and god, Stede wants to kiss him. Ed’s voice breaks as he continues. “Don’t you… I mean… I know it’s been hard, but I guess I just thought…”

Ed pauses, a fat tear clinging to his thick-fanned lashes as he looks up at Stede.

“Thought you loved me…” he mumbles, glancing away. Stede can’t help but crawl into the nest, edging towards Ed and then hesitating, uncertain.

“Oh, Edward, of course I love you!” he says. He wants to reach out, to pull both of them into his arms. He still doesn’t know what the f*ck is going on. Ed sniffles, still pouting.

“You just don’t wanna be my mate anymore?” he asks, tear breaking free to roll down over his perfect cheekbone. Stede shuffles a bit closer—not his most elegant approach, but the best he can manage at the moment.

“No!” he squeaks. Ed sucks in a little breath, drawing back like Stede’s hit him, and oh god, that was a little ambiguous wasn’t it? “Oh, god, look, not… not no, I don’t want to be your mate! I mean… no, I don’t not want to be your mate!”

Ed looks confused, but not particularly comforted. Stede bounces nervously.

“That’s not… god, I’m making a hash of this, I just mean… God, of course I still want to be your mate, Edward!” he insists. Ed looks at him doubtfully. Izzy shifts in his arms, still not looking at Stede as he pulls his face back just enough to speak.

“Eddie, leave it,” he says, voice harsh and wet, like he’s been crying. “Of course he f*cking wants you. It’s me he doesn’t want.”

Stede squawks indignantly—he’s said absolutely nothing of the kind.

“Hey!” he exclaims. “I didn’t bloody say that!”

Izzy sniffles, still refusing to look at him.

“Didn’t have to, did you?” he responds, sounding far haughtier than should be possible for a man currently naked and refusing to look Stede in the eye. “Saw it all over your face, didn’t I?”

Stede’s mouth works, sound refusing to come out. Ed glares at him, challenging.

“What the f*ck, Stede?” he asks, apparently offended on his omega’s behalf. “Why don’t you want Iz?”

“I never said that!” Stede wails, feeling as though he’s completely lost control of this situation, though he doesn’t know when, exactly.

“Might as well have…” Izzy mutters.

“Yeah, might as well have!” Ed says, placing a comforting hand on the back of Izzy’s head, pulling his head in close to his own throat, holding him tighter as Ed's knot finally slips free of his c*nt. He growls softly as Izzy licks his scent gland, still glaring at Stede. Stede folds his arms, quite put out himself, now.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Ed,” he snaps, just as haughty as Izzy—even haughtier, thank you very much! “It’s… it’s completely irrelevant! Not at issue! A… a bloody nonsequitur!”

Ed squints at him, looking suspicious, and more than a little annoyed.

“Yeah, well, quid pro quo or whatever, mate, do you want my f*cking omega or not?”

Izzy whines quietly and Ed pushes his fingers into his hair, tugging lightly until Izzy starts to purr softly. Stede swallows yet again—definitely too much swallowing, he’s almost certain he doesn’t swallow this much ordinarily, though he’ll have to start keeping track to make sure…

“Of course I want him, Edward!” The words burst out of him before he can think better of it. Izzy tenses in Ed’s arms. He twists a little, laying his temple on Ed’s chest so he can glare back at Stede, cautious, mistrustful, face stained with tear tracks. Ed smirks, looking rather less surprised than Stede would have liked for the sake of his own ego at least—he does hate to be so bloody predictable.

“Oh, yeah?” Ed says, mock-surprised. His grin takes on a wicked edge. “So get over here and prove it to him.”

*

Stede scrambles across the bed, then hesitates. Izzy tucks his face back into Ed’s chest. Christ, this is f*cking humiliating. He doesn’t need this f*cking performance. It’s not for his sake, anyway—Stede’s trying to convince Ed. He doesn’t even know why Ed wants this all of a sudden. He’s playing some bloody game and Izzy’s damned if he can figure out what it is. He feels the wheels turning in Ed’s head, moving him and Stede around like bloody chess pieces, but he can’t see the strategy. Ed’s three steps ahead, as per f*cking usual. Izzy’s almost as proud as he is irritated. Almost.

Stede reaches out, tentative. Izzy growls quietly—he can’t see Ed rolling his eyes, but he can sure as hell feel it as exasperation and affection vie for dominance in his mate’s mind. Stede’s hand hovers just over his shoulder. He wants to f*cking bite it.

“Come on, Stede,” Ed says, and Izzy can f*cking hear his smirk. Bastard. “You’re gonna have to try harder than that if you want to convince him…”

Izzy growls again, then whines plaintively as Ed pinches his ass.

“Edward!” Stede says, sounding scandalized. “I’m not sure he wants convincing!”

Ed releases Izzy’s flesh, patting his ass fondly.

“Sure he does!” he insists. “Don’t you, Iz?”

Izzy hesitates, panting. He knows what Ed wants to hear. He always knows what Ed wants to hear. He’s usually more than willing to say it, provided he’s not about to sink the bloody ship or get himself or the bloody crew killed. But this time, he feels the edge of uncertainty under Ed’s confident facade. He doesn’t know what Izzy wants. But he’d like to. And Izzy… f*ck, since when does he even know what he wants? He shifts in Ed’s arms, pushing his face into his throat, breathing in his scent, trying to calm himself. Ed rests a hand on the back of his head, stroking his hair. Izzy can feel his uncertainty growing. f*ck. Does he want Stede to convince him?

One thing’s for sure—even if he does, he’s not about to humiliate himself any further by f*cking asking for it.

“I don’t want you f*cking pretending,” he mutters instead, resting his head on Ed’s shoulder so he can talk to Stede without having to look at him. Stede sniffs, offended. Prick.

“It’s not a question of pretending, Izzy,” he says sanctimoniously. “You’re clearly in a vulnerable state! I told you before, I don’t want to take advantage, and when you’re quite obviously not in your right mind, well, I think it behooves me to remove myself before things go too far!”

Izzy twists in Ed’s arms, glaring at Stede head on, and f*ck, that was a mistake. The bastard looks soft and pretty and a little bit sad and it tugs at Izzy’s heart. He wants to pull him back down into the nest. He wants to kiss him again. f*cker. f*cking f*cker.

“Oh, f*ck you,” he snarls. “You condescending f*cking prick. You’re happy enough to take advantage when it means getting your dick wet, but the instant you might have to actually listen to a f*cking word I have to say you couldn’t possibly, is that it? Don’t f*cking blow smoke up my ass, Bonnet, we both know you’re here to protect Ed, and that’s f*cking fine, but don’t sit there and pretend you have the slightest interest in me outside of that!”

“Oh, be serious,” Stede snaps. “Even you can’t pretend you’re entirely lucid right now! You called me your mate, for Christ’s sake!”

“Because I thought you were!” Izzy shouts, and oh f*ck, he can feel tears starting in his f*cking eyes again. He’s always cried too f*cking easily. As if this wasn’t embarrassing enough already. “You felt like mine! And I know exactly how f*cking stupid that is, so don’t f*cking start, alright? I’m not some little chit you need to f*cking coddle. You can just f*cking tell me you don’t feel the same, you don’t have to f*cking pretend I’m out of my f*cking mind!”

Silence.

f*ck.

Stede f*cking Bonnet doesn’t have anything to say.

Christ, Izzy’s really f*cked it this time, hasn’t he? He buries his face in Ed’s chest again, wishing the ocean would just rise up and f*cking swallow him.

Stede’s hand brushes his shoulder. He barely suppresses a yelp. He ought to pull away, tell Bonnet to go f*ck himself because he sure as hell won’t be f*cking Izzy. He doesn’t. Stede touches him again, tugging at his arm gently, urging him to turn, to look him in the eye. He thinks he’d rather swallow razor blades. He turns anyway.

Stede looks at him searchingly, eyes wide, shocked. f*cking idiot. Izzy tries to glare at him again. The tears rolling down his cheeks aren’t f*cking helping.

“Oh, Izzy,” Stede says softly, and then he’s pulling Izzy into his arms and Izzy, f*cking weak as always, isn’t even fighting him. “I’m so sorry, darling!”

He kisses Izzy’s forehead, his cheeks, his upturned lips, and damn it, Izzy kisses him back instead of f*cking biting him. All the while, Stede mumbles utter nonsense, sweet, ridiculous endearments between kisses, “oh sweetheart,” and “my love,” and “of course I want you, of course I do,” and Izzy clings to him. Ed presses himself to Izzy’s back, kissing his spine, the side of his neck, hands wandering freely over his stomach, his chest, stroking his little co*ck teasingly as Izzy’s hips start to work. He groans as he feels Ed’s lips on his ear, tilting his head back, opening himself up to both of them.

“Want me to f*ck your ass, Iz?” Ed asks, fingers dipping down to play with Izzy’s c*nt. Izzy nods desperately, gasping.

“Yes, alpha, please, please!”

He wraps his arms around Stede’s neck as Ed spreads slick over his own co*ck before pressing the head of it to Izzy’s hole. Izzy grunts, then moans as it breaches him, one of Ed’s hands wrapping around his throat, the other gripping his hip firmly.

“You want Stede to f*ck your c*nt?” Ed asks, and Izzy can barely catch his breath long enough to moan a panicked affirmative. He feels Ed’s grin against his ear. “You heard the man, Stede—get to it!”

And then Stede’s massive prick is nudging against his c*nt, pushing inside, filling him perfectly, matching Ed’s merciless rhythm as Izzy shakes and twitches, eyes rolling back in his head, utterly lost to the pleasure of his mates f*cking him. He clutches at Stede, pulling him in closer, wanting nothing more than to be surrounded by them, crushed between them. His co*ck grinds against Stede’s stomach with every thrust, the co*cks inside him pummeling the spot that makes his body light up with pleasure, sparks shivering through him, rising like a wave, like an open flame on a wooden vessel, burning Izzy hollow. He screams, falling apart between the two of them as Ed grinds his knot into his ass and Stede reaches down to wrap a hand around his co*ck, working him through his org*sm even as Stede grunts and spills inside him, and Stede’s shoulder is right there, too f*cking tempting, irresistible actually.

Stede shrieks as Izzy’s teeth sink into his flesh, co*ck pulsing again, another wave of his seed flooding Izzy’s c*nt. He yelps, then groans, the sound half pain, half pleasure, as Izzy pulls back to lick the bite. Not a proper mating bite, of course, but it’ll do.

“Right,” Izzy says, glaring at Stede again. “Good luck telling people you’re not my f*cking mate now, you prick.”

Stede squawks indignantly, drawing himself up for a riposte—a knock on the door interrupts him.

A moment later, the door swings open, revealing, so far as Izzy can tell, the whole bloody crew in varying states of horror, curiosity, and admiration. Olu stands at the front, Jim just behind him, still looking murderous. Archie, enthusiastic as always, reaches forward to nudge Olu’s shoulder.

“Go on!” she says. “Remember, you’re supposed to say–”

“I know, I know, just give me a minute, alright, I wasn’t expecting to f*cking interrupt them–”

“In flagrante delicto!” Roach finishes for him, grinning widely. Olu groans. He steps forward, clutching something that looks very like Stede’s bloody manual on alphas and omegas, albeit significantly more battered, and absolutely covered in smudges of ink.

“Alright Izzy. Alright, uh, captains…” Olu says, clearly nervous. “We—I mean, like, all of us, the crew—we’ve got a present for you.”

Chapter 14

Chapter by unopposablethumbs

Chapter Text

“I’ll, uh, I’ll just leave this here,” Olu says. He sets the book down on a little table by the door, averting his eyes assiduously—he’s the only one who does. Jim glares, managing to make a surprisingly clear and extraordinarily explicit death threat with their eyes alone. Lucius appears to be sketching furiously. Archie gives a friendly wave, cut off as Olu shoos them all back out the door.

“Go, go!” he hisses.

“Bye, captains! Bye, Iz!” Archie shouts cheerfully. “Have fun!”

Stede, shoulder still throbbing from Izzy’s bite, stares at the door after it shuts, mouth half open. He feels a bit like he’s gone abruptly mad—perhaps he’s asleep? He raises a hand to prod at the teeth marks in his flesh gingerly.
“Ow!” he yelps, his prodding ending in a bright, unpleasant burst of pain. Izzy whines as Stede’s co*ck slips free of his c*nt.

“Sorry,” he mutters. He wraps an arm around Stede’s waist, pulling him in tight to lick at the bite. “Got a bit carried away.”

“Ow!” Stede shrieks again, slapping at Izzy’s shoulders ineffectually. The licking stings! “Stop that!”

“Best if you just let him do his thing, mate,” Ed rumbles. His co*ck is still thoroughly locked in Izzy’s ass. He leans forward to kiss his mate’s spine as Izzy continues his rather unpleasant ministrations. “Helps prevent infection. At least, I think it does. Not sure what happens when an omega bites a beta, actually. Have to ask Roach…”

Infuriatingly, Ed seems completely abstracted, only vaguely interested in the fact that Izzy has just bitten Stede. Bitten him! Like… like the little feral monster Stede has always suspected him to be! And that’s… that’s wonderful, actually! And also extremely confusing!

“Oh, shut up,” Izzy mumbles, though Stede is relatively certain he hasn’t said anything since the last perfectly warranted and extremely restrained “ow.”

“You bit me!” he says, stupidly. Izzy rolls his eyes, licking the bite again.

“I did, yeah,” he replies, unreasonably calm under the circ*mstances.

“You bit me,” Stede repeats, still feeling as though he’s completely lost the plot somewhere along the way. “I’m a beta and you bit me!”

Izzy sighs, pulling back to look at him critically. There’s a hint of uncertainty beneath that look, though, and Stede feels the indignation bleed out of him—he can also feel some blood bleeding out of him, actually, but it’s a bit hard to get upset about it with Izzy giving him that look. Stede tuts, wrapping a hand around the back of Izzy’s neck to pull him in for a kiss. His mouth tastes of salt and iron.

Some of the uncertainty is gone from Izzy’s face when Stede pulls back, cupping his cheek gently, their foreheads resting together. Izzy’s eyes slide to the side, squinting at the table where Olu left the crew’s “gift,” whatever it might be.

“f*ck have those idiots brought us, anyway?” Izzy mutters—there’s affection under it, almost shy. Stede’s struck once again by the baffling sense that Izzy is really rather sweet under all the bluster and fury.

Ed and Izzy both eye Stede meaningfully. He huffs, rolling his eyes. The fact that they’re stuck together seems a rather poor excuse for making him do the fetching when he’s just been bitten by a feral omega—his feral omega, at that, it would seem!

“Well, I suppose I can go and check, even though I am currently suffering from rather significant blood loss!” he says, tilting his chin up bravely. Izzy folds his arms, flushing rather prettily.

“Oh, f*ck off,” he mutters. Ed hooks his chin over Izzy’s shoulder, giving Stede his most irresistibly boyish grin.

“Come on, Stede,” he says. “You’re not the only one who got bitten today—looks pretty shallow too, it’ll barely leave a scar!”

Izzy gives a small, distressed whine at that.

“I mean, it’ll still scar!” Ed adds hastily. “Just, you know, in, like… an aesthetic way!”

Izzy shifts on Ed’s knot, impatient, irritable.

“You’re f*cking patronizing me,” he mutters. Ed smirks, taking hold of Izzy’s hips and grinding the knot up into him, making him gasp and moan.

“Yeah, a little bit,” Ed says, nipping at the flesh above his own bond bite. Izzy whimpers, thoroughly distracted. Stede slips off the edge of the bed, padding over to pick up the book, very definitely the worse for wear. He hears quiet yips and growls as his mates tussle playfully in the nest behind him.

*

Izzy keeps half an eye on Stede as he picks up the battered book—Izzy recognizes the dark burgundy of leather binding, and he’s not sure he wants to know what the hell the crew have been doing with Bonnet’s stupid f*cking “guide” to what omegas need. Or how they f*cking got it for that matter. He has a feeling there’s a very annoying conversation in his future. To be fair, he suspects there are a number of very annoying conversations in his future, considering everything that’s happened in the past few days. The worst part is, he’s not even dreading them that much.

He doesn’t know what the f*ck possessed him to f*cking bite Stede—the urge was f*cking irresistible, instinct taking over entirely. Stupid. Biting a f*cking beta. Christ.

Izzy’s imagining the little tug at the back of his mind when he looks at Stede, the push-pull wave of Stede’s feelings, a soft murmur compared to the constant babble of Ed. It’s silly. All in his head. Everyone knows you can’t bond a beta. He’s mistaking fondness for something more, he’s sure of it.

He’s almost sure of it.

So why, as Ed tackles him, pinning him to the bed, licking at his bond bite, rocking his knot in Izzy’s clutching c*nt, does Izzy still feel the soft edges of Stede’s embarrassment as he starts to page through the newly edited book?

*

The crew’s editorial contributions to Stede’s book are both extensive and explicit. He feels the back of his neck heat as he skims through the first chapter—they’ve made quite a number of revisions here, mostly pulling out pages talking about omegas as fickle, unreliable, prone to flights of fancy, and alphas as a necessary stabilizing influence.

Stede can hardly argue with the changes. From what he’s seen of Ed and Izzy, the opposite seems closer to the truth. Stede recognizes Lucius’s handwriting, noting that omegas are no more or less prone to flights of fancy than anyone else, and he’s willing to bet it’s Jim’s furious scrawl that takes over a few paragraphs in, waxing eloquent on omegas’ strength, their intelligence, and the need to overthrow the oppressive structures that modern society imposes on them.

A few pages later, Jim’s rather impressive manifesto turns to slightly crude drawings—Frenchie’s, no doubt—showing, among other things, a stick figure of an omega, identifiable by the remarkably detailed c*nt between its single-line-drawing legs, being choked by a stick figure of an alpha, recognizable by the frankly alarming tumescence of its co*ck. Frenchie has drawn a large X through that drawing, with a frowny face underlined next to it. The following page shows the same stick figure omega being cuddled—or possibly kissed? or… or f*cked? It’s difficult to say with stick figures. That drawing is accompanied by a large check mark and a smiley face. Crude or not, the intent is clear.

Stede flips to the middle of the book, to a page that seems to have been ripped out and then pasted back in—the page about spanking, as luck would have it. Jim’s writing is the first he sees, the word NO in bold strokes, underlined several times. But beneath it, another hand takes over—Olu’s, perhaps? The letters are rounded, tidy, friendly, almost. Well, Izzy might be an exception, he’s written, and then: But you have to talk about it! And listen to him! And have a safe word, for f*ck’s sake!

Stede’s not entirely sure what a safe word is, as a matter of fact, but at this point, anything that makes for a reduction in the sheer volume of sexual assault on his ship sounds like a good idea to him. He turns the page—oh, there it is! Lucius’s flowing script takes over again, his explanation of the concept of safe words concise and, frankly, embarrassingly obvious. Now that Stede thinks about it, he’s ashamed not to have come up with the idea himself. He swallows, cheeks flaming hot. God. There’s just so much he hasn’t understood. And now Izzy wants him for a mate? It still seems like a mistake, a passing fancy that will disappear with Izzy’s heat, bite or no bite, and then he’ll be left to…

“Bonnet.” Izzy’s dry, exhausted voice derails Stede’s train of thought abruptly. “Just get back over here and f*cking show it to me before you work yourself into a bloody lather over it.”

*

Izzy can feel Stede’s insecurity as it rolls up through him like a tide. Or maybe… maybe he’s just getting to know Stede, knows how to predict it… He shakes his head, trying to clear it. He’s f*cking imagining things.

It’s a strange feeling, nothing like his bond with Ed, or their old bastard bond, for that matter. He just feels aware of Stede, like he’s very important, like his emotions are important, and if anything convinces Izzy there’s something real in this seemingly impossible bond with a beta, it’ll be that. Wouldn’t have caught him caring about Stede f*cking Bonnet’s f*cking feelings before, that’s for certain. Well. Not openly, anyway…

But there’s more to it than just caring, humiliating as the caring is. It’s easier to judge somehow—like he only has to look at Stede, even the back of his stupid blond head, to know exactly how he’s feeling.

“Come on Bonnet, show me what those idiots brought us.”

Stede startles, then smiles nervously.

“Oh,” he says. “Right.”

He hesitates in front of the nest, squeezing the book, uncertainty radiating through the lines of his body. Izzy huffs, rolling his eyes. He pats the nest invitingly—the gesture isn’t half as sarcastic as he intends it to be. Stede scrambles up awkwardly, holding the book out in front of him.

“Ed,” Izzy says, smacking Ed on the shoulder. Ed, still buried face first in Izzy’s neck, growls playfully. “Ed.”

Izzy smacks him again, shoving at him until Ed pulls back, pouting. It reminds him so much of Ed as a young man he could f*cking cry. Ed’s knot slips out of his ass—it’s going down faster now, the current that runs between them now easing Ed’s possessiveness, his need to keep ahold of Izzy for as long as he can. Izzy pushes himself up to sit against the little ridge of pillows he’s built at the back of the nest. Ed snuggles into his side, face pressing into the side of his neck again. Izzy strokes the back of his head. Ed aches. Izzy can feel it, tenderness and regret and pain and love and fear all bound up together, arcing in Ed’s body like a live wire, or else thrumming through him, a low, constant hum. There’s an answering ache in him, down to his bones, through his marrow, in the f*cking blood and guts of him. He doesn’t think it’ll ever quite go away. But it eases a bit as he strokes Ed’s hair, feels his mate’s body pressed into his, one hand reaching down to tangle with his.

Stede’s watching them when he looks up, and Izzy can feel the melancholy in him, too, or see it at least, in the lines around his mouth, the slump of his shoulders.

Well.

Quite the f*cking trio aren’t they.

He opens his free arm, beckoning to Stede with his fingers—Stede stares at him for a moment, jaw dropped, eyes widening, and Izzy clicks his tongue.

“Come on, you f*cking twat,” he says fondly. “Come read it to us, then.”

Stede somehow windmills himself into Izzy’s arms in a terrifying whirl of limbs—almost hitting Izzy in the bloody nose, mind you—and snuggles into the side of him, reaching down to Ed and Izzy’s entangled hands, wrapping his own hand around them. And as Izzy grumbles and rolls his eyes and pulls Stede in tighter, he realizes it’s happened again, despite his best f*cking efforts: Izzy feels safe.