i would swallow my pride, i would choke on the rinds

by givemebaretrees

Summary:

“He’s at your mercy,” said Edward, and now he was watching Bonnet very closely. “What would you do with a man, at your mercy?”

“Free him,” said Bonnet, perplexed. “Once I’d gotten what I wanted.”

Bonnet looked at Izzy.

“Blackbeard would’ve hit me,” said Izzy, because this was a test, and Bonnet was failing it, and Izzy wanted to gloat. “For the fun of it. He’d have split my lip, just to see blood. The men would cheer, because of course this would be out on the deck.”

Notes:

I should probably be embarrassed about how MUCH time I'm spending on the kink meme, all but one of the fics I've written has been a kink meme prompt. But argh! The prompts are just so good! I swear I'm writing a fic that WASN'T from a kink meme prompt!! I outlined it today! It's a silly comedy thing with a PLOT!

Anyway. For now, smut.

Full kink meme prompt: Ed and Stede tie Izzy up and proceed to drive him out of his mind, refusing to use even a hint of the violence Izzy wants. Could be a punishment or could be them genuinely wanting to give him something other than violence, I really have no preference. I just want them to break Izzy with gentleness.

Title from Inside Out by Eve 6 (an Izzy song if I ever heard one):

 

I would swallow my pride, I would choke on the rinds
But the lack thereof would leave me empty inside
I would swallow my doubt, turn it inside out
Find nothin' but faith in nothin'

“You really used to do this sort of thing?” said Bonnet. “Tie up your own men to the mast?”

Bonnet put his hands on his hips, inspecting his own handiwork. This put his face inelegantly close to Izzy’s wrists, which were tied up and behind him, in a complicated bundle of rope that Izzy couldn’t see, but was half-sure wasted most of the length on attempts to “secure” itself that wouldn’t have passed inspection for even the slackest of new recruits. What it secured him to was the chair of Bonnet’s office. Bonnet smelled of oranges, sweet like marmalade, like lavender, and he was far too close for Izzy’s comfort right now.

But that wasn’t the point. The point was that Izzy, somehow, was supposed to be pretending to be tied up, so Bonnet could practice his fucking knots.

“No, he just made it up for a laugh,” said Izzy, rolling his eyes. “No shit he used to do it, Bonnet.”

“Sometimes,” said Edward. 

“It was a punishment,” said Izzy. Were Edward’s nose and the apples of his cheeks going darker, ruddy with embarrassment?  As if Blackbeard got embarrassed that he punished his men for insubordination, publicly, roughly?

The afternoon sunlight caught in his hair, the silks of Bonnet’s robe. Bonnet wrinkled his nose. Izzy fucking hated him and his stupid little expressions, the way that he looked at everything that had made Blackbeard’s crew Izzy’s rightful place, and grimaced at it like it annoyed him. Edward had shrugged off his black leather jacket, and had stolen one of Bonnet’s robes, too, like the two of them matched, Edward’s curls soft and nearly glowing. For fuck’s sake.

“Well, there was usually more—” Edward punched his hand into his own open fist. “It was a little more, er, of a display. Usually it was supposed to be about who was in charge, and what-not. You know, a reminder not to do it again.”

“Sometimes he shot at them,” said Izzy. “Make ’em dance, you know. If you don’t kill one of them every now and then, they forget who you are, don’t they, Edward?”

“Iz,” said Edward, pleadingly.

“I’ve not forgotten,” said Izzy.

Something twisted in Edward’s face, his eyes getting that soft, shining look they often took on around Bonnet. It would have been an apology, except that Izzy didn’t want one, and Edward knew it.

“You can use it on prisoners and the like, too,” said Edward, as if that were any kind of explanation, to Bonnet, who hummed.

“Surely that’s more common than tying up your own men? I mean, after all, you need them, don’t you? To run the ship, if nothing else.”

“It was about fifty-fifty,” said Izzy, and he grinned at Bonnet, enjoying the way that, even though Izzy was the one tied to Bonnet’s fancy chair, Bonnet was the one squirming. “That was the fun part.”

“Even you?” said Bonnet, tilting his head.

“Of course,” said Izzy.

“Well, Izzy,” said Edward. “Can you get out?”

Izzy was the best, the most nimble. And, on some level, Edward must have known, that of all of his men—

But that didn’t matter, not when Bonnet was there. Izzy swiveled his wrists, only getting rope burn for his trouble. He twisted his hands until his fingertips could reach his wrist, and tried for the knife hidden in his sleeve. When the knot only grew tighter, Izzy was forced to concede that Bonnet had learned the trick, and learned it well. He sighed.

“So that’s that, then,” said Bonnet. “You can’t get out!”

Edward scratched at his chin, other arm folded across in front of him like a barrier and clutching tightly at the hem of the robe. He shook his head.

Izzy rolled his eyes at Bonnet, and stretched his knee up, knowing how inelegant he looked in the chair, and not really caring who was looking.

“I’m trying to get out for my life, idiot,” said Izzy, though it was a bit of a struggle, and he felt himself twist something in his back that would almost certainly complain more later. “I’m going to try a bit harder than that. I’ve got a knife in my boot, too.”

“Excessive,” said Edward.

“Necessary,” said Izzy. The familiarity of the argument was almost comforting.

“Oh!” said Bonnet, because, Izzy was sure, fighting for his life had never once occurred to him, ever. Izzy was beginning to suspect his idiocy was a defense mechanism that was somehow working, which was the closest thing to something nice he could say about Bonnet’s fighting style. “Can you even… get your foot up there?”

Izzy scowled.

“I’m going to try.”

The chair tilted dangerously, and Izzy felt ill for a moment, before dropping his foot back down.

“Fine. Fuck it,” he said.

“That’s all?” said Edward.

“I’m not a fucking teenager any more, Edward,” said Izzy.

He loosened his boot with his other foot, feeling the knife slide around, and tried again, half-planning to knock it out onto his own lap, pick it up with his teeth if he could bend down that far, if he could lift it with his knees, and then once he had it in his teeth he might be able to transfer it to his hands, but when he propped his foot up against Bonnet’s desk, the knife fell out, and clattered to the floor.

“Ooh, there it goes!” said Edward. “There’s your last chance, Izzy! Can you get it?”

Izzy scoffed at him.

“You’ve been captured by the Gentleman Pirate!” said Bonnet, with entirely too much glee. “Now, you’ll tell me where the loot is, or we’ll make you walk the plank!”

“Fuck off, no one does that,” said Izzy, and kicked the knife back to his other foot, but couldn’t get a grasp on it. “I’m stuck. You did it. You’ve captured me. I fucking dare you to slit my throat.”

“Well, that won’t be necessary,” said Bonnet. “Anyway, I’m not the type to keep my men all tied up, so… thank you, Izzy, you’ve done me a great service.”

He moved forward, but somehow, Izzy’s eyes met Edward’s, and Izzy hadn’t meant for there to be a plea there but Edward held a hand up to Bonnet. Bonnet stopped what he was doing.

“You heard him,” said Edward. “Used to do this to my own men. That was the fun part, right, Izzy? Shall we show him?”

Izzy’s heart leapt into his throat, and he looked at Edward.

“He couldn’t,” said Izzy. “He wouldn’t.”

“No,” said Edward, getting that strange, pensive look he got sometimes. “He couldn’t.”

“Well, then, what’s the point?” said Izzy.

“I don’t know,” said Edward, and he looked between the two of them.

It was always something with Edward. Something impossible to put into words, because by the time Izzy had any of it figured out, Edward was on to the next thing.

“What are you both talking about?” said Bonnet.

“He’s at your mercy,” said Edward, and now he was watching Bonnet very closely. “What would you do with a man, at your mercy?”

“Free him,” said Bonnet, perplexed. “Once I’d gotten what I wanted.”

Bonnet looked at Izzy.

“Blackbeard would’ve hit me,” said Izzy, because this was a test, and Bonnet was failing it, and Izzy wanted to gloat. “For the fun of it. He’d have split my lip, just to see blood. The men would cheer, because of course this would be out on the deck.”

Izzy shifted in the chair, though it didn’t matter, of course. Edward knew what this did to Izzy, that was half of why they did it. That was the fun part. Izzy liked that part. Bonnet’s eyes dipped down, and Izzy could practically hear his thoughts settle into place.

“Do you want me to hit you?” said Bonnet. “Ed, help me out here.”

Izzy was silent.

“He does, probably,” said Edward, for Izzy, so that Izzy didn’t have to say it. “He’ll tell us if he doesn’t like it.”

Bonnet lifted a hand to Izzy’s face. Izzy watched something twitch in Edward’s shoulders, as if he were holding himself more tightly under the robe, and Bonnet ran his hand along Izzy’s face. Izzy felt his breath catch again, waiting for a slap that never came. Edward exhaled, and stepped forward. He tilted Izzy’s chin upwards. Izzy pulled at the ropes again.

“If you’re just going to… stroke me,” said Izzy. “What’s even the point? Why tie me up, for all of this?”

“Ed, what are we doing?” said Stede, voice low, words not meant for Izzy. “He can’t get out.”

Edward bent down, picked up the knife, and Izzy expected the point of it at his throat. That was what Blackbeard would have done. Instead, Edward tucked the knife back into his hand, closed Izzy’s fingers around the cold wooden handle gently, and where Bonnet had run his hand down Izzy’s face, Edward knew better, knew to wrap his hand around Izzy’s throat, but didn’t press down as Izzy expected, not even against the soft spot under his jaw that would make him pleasantly lightheaded. Instead, Izzy felt the rough pad of his thumb along his own jugular vein. Izzy clutched the knife tighter.

Edward climbed into Izzy’s lap, straddling him, and this was what Izzy wanted. He grinned.

“Oh, my goodness—” said Bonnet. “Ed?”

“Stede,” said Edward, looking back at him, “I want to try something, but only if you want to, too.”]

“Okay,” said Bonnet, “okay. Yes. Let’s—I want to see this.”

“When I agreed to this, I thought you were just going to tie me up and let me out,” said Izzy, but didn’t move his hand, the warm weight of Edward on his lap all too compelling a reason to stay put.

Bonnet was looking between the two of them, where Edward was running his hands up and down Izzy’s sides, and Izzy suspected that Bonnet was quietly learning something about himself. Get in fucking line, he thought. But Edward was being too nice.

“I also thought that!” said Bonnet, raising his hand slightly. “This is a surprise to me, too.”

“I didn't plan it,” said Edward, defensively. “Izzy’s the one who got hard, I… It’s—old habits.”

“Habits?” said Stede. Edward’s eyes ducked down. Like a blushing fucking maiden. Izzy rolled his eyes.

“Habits,” confirmed Edward.

“That’s right, blame it on me,” said Izzy, rattling his wrists in their restraints, and stomping his foot against the floor. “My fault, you wanted to practice knot-tying with your boyfriend.”

“Well, if this is a pirate thing, be my guest,” said Stede, though there was a flush creeping up his cheeks, and he adjusted his necktie slightly, loosening it.

“It’s not a pirate thing,” said Izzy. “It’s a Blackbeard thing.”

“I think I want to change things up this time, Izzy,” said Edward. “What d’ya say? We got a new audience this time. A co-captain.”

“I’d rather you just hit me,” said Izzy, shortly. “Fucking punch me. Fuck, Edward, pull my hair. Take the knife away. This is torture.”

Edward was busying himself with the buttons of Izzy’s waistcoat, with his necktie underneath. Izzy knew that anything he was saying was undercut by the facts that: first, Edward was almost certainly well aware by now of how hard he was, and second, Izzy was still holding the knife, and could have turned the situation in his favor at any moment.

“Is—is it really?” said Bonnet.

“Yes,” said Izzy and Edward at the same time, Izzy exasperated, Edward with half a smile on his face. “It is,” added Izzy.

“Stede, help me out here,” said Edward. “Come stand behind Izzy, find something to do with your hands.”

“You said pull your hair?” said Bonnet, moving to stand behind Izzy.

“Yes,” managed Izzy, “anything. I don’t care. Just fucking make it hurt.”

“Aha!” said Bonnet, “so I’ll do the opposite of that, then, is that right, Ed?”

“I’ll stop you if you get it wrong,” said Edward.

Izzy was met with hands carding through his hair, gentle as a spring breeze (the kind that left sailors stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere), Bonnet’s fingers soft where sword calluses never formed. Edward was warm on his lap, and his hands were busy, but never did anything more than muss Izzy’s shirt. It was maddening.

“Palpitating him, are you?” said Edward, and Bonnet snorted. The smell of oranges and lavender was almost overwhelming now, and Izzy realized that some of it was from Edward, as well.

“The fuck does that mean?” said Izzy, but his breath was coming in short gasps now. Edward reached up, somewhere above Izzy’s head, and pulled Bonnet down for a kiss. It was messy, required a lot of stretching from Edward, and twisted the flat of the knife against Bonnet’s soft stomach. Izzy winced at the smacking noise of the kiss, at their brief, soft exhale when they split apart.

He tried to thrust his hip upwards against Edward, but couldn’t get enough leverage.

“Not yet,” said Edward. “When I say so.”

“Edward,” said Izzy, meaning for it to sound annoyed, and only managing to sound desperate. Bonnet’s hands found their way down past Izzy’s throat, over his chest, washing over him like a wave and receding back upwards again. It wouldn’t even have hardly counted as a massage, too soft a touch for that. Izzy realized that what he was doing was squirming, trying for anything to put pressure on him, to push him back against the chair, but Bonnet and Edward were determined that everything be soft. He arched his back.

“Get a cushion,” said Edward, shortly, and Bonnet disappeared. In the meantime, Edward pushed back, leaning over Izzy again. He undid the flap of Izzy’s pants. Bonnet returned with a cushion, sliding it neatly between Izzy and the hard rungs of the back of the chair, which Izzy hadn’t even noticed, and now missed. Izzy tried to pull at his wrist restraints again, but Edward slid a hand around him, and Izzy shuddered.

“That’s it,” said Bonnet. “You’ll have a good time, and you’ll like it!”

Izzy could practically feel him look to Edward.

“Is that it?” Bonnet asked, nervously. “Is that what we’re doing?”

Edward—or what Izzy could see of him, from where Izzy had let his head hang down in front of him, unable to continue meeting Edward’s eyes—shrugged.

Edward was silent, stroking Izzy’s cock slowly, knuckles grazing against Izzy’s stomach, against the dark hair at the base, and the sensation made warmth curl in Izzy’s stomach, at the base of his spine. Izzy dropped the knife, and felt Bonnet behind him yelp and dodge it as it fell. He heard a scraping sound, and realized Bonnet must have kicked it aside. Edward didn’t flinch.

“Lift his head back up,” said Edward, and Bonnet complied, until Izzy was staring at the ceiling, unable to see what either of them were doing. Bonnet bent down, and Izzy managed to choke back a sob of annoyance when he realized the opportunity that Bonnet was taking.

Bonnet’s lips pressed against his forehead, cool and soft, and made their way down. Izzy’s arms were beginning to ache, but that was the closest thing Izzy had to what he wanted, and it didn’t help. Bonnet’s lips met his own.

“Try something more like,” said Edward, and Izzy realized he was talking to Bonnet, “‘good, Izzy, well done.’ Something like that.”

“Edward,” moaned Izzy, feeling himself sink back into the cushion, sliding impossibly down in the chair. Edward, shifting so he was no longer sitting in Izzy’s lap, braced his good knee between Izzy’s legs.

“See, it works,” said Edward. Izzy tried to slide down far enough to get more friction against Edward’s thigh, but Edward was pinning him in place.

“I see,” said Bonnet. “That’s it, Izzy, let go. Well done!”

“What, exactly, am I doing, and ‘doing well’ at that,” said Izzy flatly. There were so many hands against him—rationally, he knew there were only four, but he arched up against the ones—he couldn’t be sure whose—that were thumbing at his chest.

“You’re taking this very well, you’re very responsive,” said Bonnet, and he really did sound like that awed him. “Look at you.”

“Look at what,” muttered Izzy, “Edward’s old toy, come back to play for a moment? What will you do, Edward, when this is over—will you shove me out onto the deck again, and go back to bed with Bonnet—was it boring for you, the public punishments, the beatings, the battles?”

Both Bonnet and Edward froze. Izzy’s breath was coming in short pants now, shallow and impossible to control. He couldn’t bring himself to open his eyes. He wasn’t quite sure when he had shut them.

“Ed,” said Bonnet, urgently, “get up.”

“Oh, now it’s over,” said Izzy. “You thought you’d just get to have a little bit of fun, pretending to be nice.”

He took a deep breath, steeling himself, and opened his eyes. Bonnet was doing something with the ropes behind him.

“No,” said Edward, getting up, “we’re going to put you on the bed.”

Izzy’s hands fell down over his face, still tied, and suddenly, of all people—Bonnet was sliding his hands underneath Izzy’s knees, behind Izzy’s back, and letting out an ungraceful exhale as he hoisted Izzy up.

“What? Put me down!”

“Do you mean that, Iz?” said Edward, from somewhere behind Bonnet’s shoulders. “If you mean it, we will. Tell us to fuck off and we’ll put you down.”

Izzy kept his mouth shut, and sank back against Bonnet’s warm and broad chest. He did mean it—but couldn’t bring himself to wriggle out of Bonnet’s grasp to prove it. For starters, it would have been fucking embarrassing to fall on the floor. For seconds, he couldn’t be sure his legs would have supported him, even if he managed to get to his feet with his hands tied. He swallowed, throat going dry at the thought of the bed.

“Thought not,” said Edward, smugly, in just the way that sent heat curling up Izzy’s spine.

“There you go,” said Bonnet, and Izzy was tumbled into Bonnet’s mass of sheets and bedding, limbs sprawling, clothes still half-undone from Edward’s busy hands. “You’re very light, did you know that?”

“I’m fast,” said Izzy, scowling.

“Not fast enough or he wouldn’t have beaten you in that fight, would he?” said Edward, and he sat down next to Izzy. Izzy swallowed as Edward ran his knuckles softly down Izzy’s face, pushing Izzy’s hair aside, and Izzy felt his heart pound in his chest. Edward tugged at the rope between Izzy’s hands, pushing his wrists up and over his head—and then, with a shift in the mattress, though Izzy could barely lift his head up to see, peering over Edward’s shoulder was Bonnet. Bonnet gently pulled at Izzy’s boots, setting them on the floor, and then he kissed Edward.

Izzy watched them for a moment, watched them get caught up in each other—in a way that he’d never seen Edward get caught up before. There’d always been something calculating in his displays on the deck, some distance in him that Izzy had thought was just how Edward was. He’d even liked that. 

“We’re neglecting him,” said Edward, breaking off the kiss.

“Oh, of course! Apologies, Izzy.”

Like Bonnet would ever apologize to him outside of this. It was condescending, was what it was.

“Don’t mind me,” said Izzy, looking away, and up at the ceiling—which was a mistake, because when Bonnet slid onto the bed next to him, on the window side, he wasn’t prepared for it, and Bonnet’s hands were still stupid fucking soft as they undid his trousers, pulled him out from his layers of clothing, and he picked up where Edward had left off.

Edward bent over him, and Izzy didn’t know what to expect—past experience had taught him bruising kisses on the neck, the collar, on the chest—but never on the mouth, and yet that was where Edward’s lips met him now, very nearly chaste, almost close-mouthed. Izzy tried to chase him, tried to get him to use teeth and tongue, but Edward merely mouthed at him, dodging Izzy’s  attempts to turn the kiss into something else.

And it shouldn’t have been enough, but between Bonnet’s hands, all the fucking foreplay (Izzy wasn’t used to fucking foreplay, of all the fucking things), Izzy began to find it harder and harder to chase Edward, his breath coming in sharper pants and sighs as Bonnet worked him too fucking slowly—

“Was that a moan?” said Bonnet.

“See if we can get him to do it again?” suggested Edward, looking at Bonnet like he really meant to ask, instead of order. His hand rested against Izzy’s chest, the weight of it heavy.

“Oh! Yes, good idea.”

“Fuck you,” managed Izzy, but even with his hands tied together, he reached back out to Edward, clutching at the hem of Bonnet’s stupid fucking robe, pulling him back. Edward disentangled himself, but held Izzy’s hand in his own.

“Close enough,” said Edward, “good, Izzy, just like that.”

Izzy felt himself arch up, choking back another moan, feeling himself shut his eyes as he spilled into Bonnet’s hand, as Bonnet stroked him through it gently, twisting his hand to pay attention to the head of Izzy’s cock, and Izzy was left panting between them. Bonnet was already drawing a fucking handkerchief out of his pocket to clean Izzy up—and had anyone ever cleaned Izzy up afterwards? He couldn’t have said—as Edward finger-combed his hair back into place, and Izzy tried to catch his breath.

“Cut me out of this,” said Izzy, holding his hands over to Edward, and Edward drew his own knife out of his boot and cut Izzy’s restraints.

“That was, er, certainly enlightening,” said Bonnet, and Izzy snorted, though exhaustion was beginning to overwhelm him. “Izzy, you can stay here, if you like.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Izzy, c’mon,” said Edward, and Izzy swallowed. “Hey, Stede, come sit on the edge of the bed.”

And Izzy curled back up under the covers, as his fucking captain knelt on the ground and disappeared between fucking Bonnet’s legs, and proceeded to (of all things!) give him a fucking blowjob, with Izzy right there—

But Bonnet kept his hand on Izzy’s waist, and Izzy would have been lying if he said that the weight of it didn’t center him. It settled him as easily as the sound of the waves lapping against the side of the ship when he slept on deck, despite every fucking thing about the situation, he felt his breathing mellow out, felt tension he hadn’t even understood leave his shoulders. When Edward was done, the both of them crawled back into bed, shifting around in some pattern that Izzy didn’t quite catch. By that point he was drifting in and out of consciousness, losing the threads of their conversation. Something settled over him, and at first he thought it was a blanket, but it was only over his waist.

“Iz, you awake?” said Edward. Izzy’s eyes drifted open. Someone had left the half-cut length of rope on the far side of the bed, by the window, curled up as it had been when they loosened it over Izzy’s wrists, like a snake ready to strike.

“I’ll leave,” said Izzy, and he tried to put some bite into it. “So you two can cuddle.”

“I don’t want that,” said Edward, and he pulled Izzy closer, and it would be later when Izzy realized that Bonnet’s arms were wrapped around Edward’s waist, and Edward’s arms were wrapped around him.

“Fine, since you’re so fucking insistent,” said Izzy, and even he could hear how drowsy it was. “First you fucking trap me in here, then you fuck me in the trap, then you trap me again afterwards.”

“Would you do it again, Izzy?” said Edward, softly.

Izzy turned his face into the pillow. He didn’t want to get fucking comfortable here. That would be stupid. This kind of arrangement didn’t work. It might have worked on Blackbeard’s ship, but Izzy had no fucking clue what it would look like here. He felt himself standing on the edge of a precipice, unable to tell what would happen if he stepped forward.

He swallowed.

“I’d follow you anywhere,” said Izzy, quietly.

“Even here?”

Izzy thought again of how Bonnet’s hands had been so smooth, how the two of them had communicated around him. How easily Bonnet and Edward had listened to one another, and how Edward still knew to walk the line between Izzy’s displays of rage and Izzy’s discomfort in the pursuit of something that felt good. He’d missed that. It’d scratched an itch he’d never thought he’d relieve again, not since they climbed on board the Revenge.

“Next time,” said Izzy, “if you don’t pull my hair at least once, Edward, I swear on this fucking ship I’m packing my things and leaving. I’d like to see Bonnet do it. Bet he can’t even get a good grip.”

Edward laughed.

“He’s stronger than you think.”

“I fucking doubt that very much,” said Izzy, but maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be so unknown after all.