Chapter Text
If you'd asked Stede at the start of evening how he'd thought his night would go, he definitely wouldn't have said that he'd end up at a glory hole booth in the back of a gay sex club.
He might've gotten himself in a little bit over his head with all of this – as Lucius had warned him he would, when he'd tried to persuade Stede to choose a tamer outing for his first foray into the gay scene, then washed his hands of it entirely when Stede had insisted that he wanted the full experience – but still. He was here now, stood in a small, black-painted booth, a blank TV screen on one side of the space and a faux leather booth seat opposite.
And, of course, a fist-sized hole carved out of the wall at hip height, leading to the booth next door.
He had to bite back the urge to introduce himself to whoever was on the other side of the hole. He wasn't entirely up on the etiquette for this sort of thing, but he was pretty sure that the whole point of it was that it was anonymous. Did that mean he wasn't meant to speak at all? It seemed a little rude to just stick his cock through a hole in the wall and expect it to be sucked. Then again, if someone was knelt on the other side of such a wall, waiting for a cock to suck, they probably would be annoyed by small talk.
He wondered whether they'd find the size of his cock off-putting. His ex-wife Mary had certainly blanched the first time she'd seen it, he knew there was a lot of it to handle. If the person on the other side of the wall was as new to this as he was, he certainly wouldn't blame them for abandoning ship once they caught sight of it.
More likely, though, the person on the other side of the wall would have done this before. Stede felt his cheeks flush, then his cock, as he built up a mental image of a man knelt on the other side of the wall. He wouldn't be intimidated by Stede's size, would just see it as a challenge, would be eager to get his mouth around Stede. He'd have a beard, neatly kept but long enough for it to graze occasionally against Stede's skin, reminding him without words that it was a man doing this to him. He'd have strong, calloused fingers, grip sure as he stroked whatever he could reach of Stede that didn't yet fit in his mouth.
Stede realised, abruptly, that the mental image he was building could very easily be shaped into the visage of a certain new co-worker of his, and brought himself up short.
This wasn't about Ed, he told himself sternly. Ed was quickly becoming a dear friend, he wasn't going to jeopardise that just because of a minor crisis of sexuality.
He tried to force his mental image in a different direction, only to come to the abrupt realisation that one of his other new co-workers, Izzy, would also fit the description of the sort of man he'd been fantasising was on the other side of the wall.
He shied away from that thought even harder than the first. Izzy wasn't lovely the way Ed was, although, Stede supposed, he was handsome, in his own way. Or would be, if he weren't so cantankerous and off-putting, and didn't approach every conversation as if he were moments away from challenging Stede to a duel.
That said, verbally sparring with Izzy was actually almost fun, now that he thought about it. Especially the look he'd get on his face when he'd realised Stede had gotten the better of him–
No. Definitely not. Stede absolutely wasn't going to linger over the fact that the thought of Izzy on his knees gave him the same sort of feeling that winning an argument against him did.
Desperate for a distraction, Stede cast about the small booth. There was a small button next to the curtain that presumably covered a window between the booths, which he immediately shied away from. He didn't think he'd be able to stave off the impulse to wave, if the man on the other side also uncovered his curtain. He'd just make a fool of himself. He cast about again, and his gaze caught on a remote, mounted onto the wall, presumably for the TV set into the wall opposite.
Some white noise seemed like a better option. Relieved, Stede pressed the power button, and jumped more than he should have when the screen was suddenly filled with a pair of writhing, sinuous bodies, slightly theatrical moans of pleasure echoing softly from the speakers.
Stede felt himself flush. Well, it was considerate, he supposed, for the venue to offer a little mood setting.
His gaze flicked to the hole again. No movement. Maybe the other man was waiting for him to get settled in first? That made sense.
He looked down at the faux leather bench seat, and pulled a few wet wipes from the dispenser on the wall, giving it a quick wipe down before tossing the wipes into the bin in the corner. For good measure, he then pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and laid it out before taking a seat.
He glanced at the hole again and flushed harder.
Did he just... start? It really seemed like there should be some sort of signal. Or was he meant to give a signal? Was the sound of him pleasuring himself meant to be the signal?
He looked up at the TV again, and felt the flush spread decidedly lower.
He'd watched gay pornography in the comfort of his own home, of course. For research. It had still somehow felt illicit, then, even though he'd lived alone since the divorce. Here, though, the pornography had practically been put on for him. It was all but expected of him.
The sound of his zipper going down seemed deafeningly loud over the moans coming from the TV. His breath caught slightly, fully aware that the man in the other booth would have been able to hear it as well.
On screen, the man being penetrated – the bottom, as Stede had learnt – was suddenly flipped onto his back by his co-star, legs folding up around the top's waist as his moans increased in pitch. Stede pressed the palm of his hand against the base of his cock, feeling himself begin to plump and fill. His gaze darted between the glory hole and the screen as he shifted his underwear down his hips, drawing himself out into the open air. He bit his lip as he began to stroke himself, breath catching at the thought of the man in the booth over doing the same.
He caught a flutter of movement by the hole, and his eyes snapped towards it. A flash of heat went straight to his cock at the sight of a leather-gloved hand reaching through the hole, making a come-hither motion with two fingers before retreating.
Like he was being drawn along on a string, Stede jolted up out of his seat and staggered over to the hole. He could already imagine the feel of leather on the sensitive skin of his cock, the slide perhaps aided along by some oil, and had to bite back a moan. He steadfastly ignored the next thought that drifted through his brain, that he'd seen both Ed and Izzy wearing leather gloves when getting on their motorcycles. He paused instead, taking a moment to steady himself, to absorb the reality of the situation.
He was about to stick his cock through a random hole, so that a complete stranger could bring him off.
It still felt a little unreal. He squeezed the base of his cock briefly, both to ground himself in the moment, and to give himself some stability with which to feed his cock through the hole, before doing just that.
Unexpectedly, the man on the other side gave Stede's cock a light slap. Startled, Stede's knees briefly buckled, both from the touch of leather on his skin, and the shock of being slapped there in the first place. His mind went blank for a second, and he pulled back from the hole on instinct more than anything. Clearly he'd done something wrong, and past the hot tingling feeling spreading through his whole body, he felt a little affronted that that was how the other man had chosen to communicate his displeasure at whatever misstep Stede had made – although, Stede had to concede, his options were somewhat limited.
There was an irate huff from the other side of the wall, then a brief flash as something was thrown through, hitting Stede softly in the thigh.
There's no need to be so rude, Stede thought uncharitably, then bent down to pick the object up.
It was a small foil square, with something ring-shaped inside, and Stede felt himself blush.
Ah. Yes, actually, wearing a condom was rather a sensible request, in this situation.
A little embarrassed, Stede tore open the packaging, holding the condom in clumsy fingers. He and Mary had only ever had sex to try to have children, so Stede's actual experience with condoms was really just limited to what had been featured in the pornography he'd watched. He set the condom atop the tip of his cock, biting down the sudden, hysterical urge to laugh at the fact that it looked a little like he'd put a beanie on it, and semi-competently rolled the condom down his cock.
Once it was in place, he slipped his newly-sheathed cock back through the glory hole, and waited hopefully for the man to touch him again.
–––––––––––––––––––––––––
Izzy Hands loved to suck cock.
He was good at it, too, so it definitely showed. He'd certainly spent enough time on his knees.
There was both power and submission in it. It was an endless thrill, holding someone's cock in his mouth. The mindless little blank space his thoughts would go to when he could feel something hot and hard slide between his lips, the rhythmic motions of his own tongue all but hypnotising him. He didn't need to think about how to be of use, he just was.
It was far easier to get to that place when he was at a glory hole. He'd be judged on skills alone, no attention paid to his looks, his intense, acerbic personality. No awkward exchange of numbers after, half-hearted promises that they'd call him, which always ended up broken. Izzy simply wanted too much.
So, no. He just needed to get it all out of his system at once, every now and again. Easier that way. Better, even. The thought of having to organise and coordinate something like this on his own definitely didn't appeal, and he really did crave the feeling of his head emptying completely as he was used.
He heard the door of the next booth over open and shut, and snapped to attention. He lowered himself to his knees – which took a little longer than it used to, both because of age and his below-the-knee prosthetic – and trained his focus on the hole. He listened to all the usual shuffling and fumbling, the soft sound of porn being played in the next booth over followed by the unmistakable sound of a zipper going down. Then a faint hitch of breath, almost imperceptible, as the man presumably began stroking himself.
Izzy gave him a few seconds more, then reached a gloved hand through the hole, beckoning the other man over. The glove was a little theatrical, he knew, but it helped enhance the anonymity even further, curtailing the admittedly minimal risk that someone might recognise his hands. Never mind that anyone that knew him well enough to recognise him from just his hands would probably be able to figure out who he was anyway, from what little they'd be able to see of his face as he sucked them off through the hole.
Still, it hadn't happened yet, at least to Izzy's knowledge. No point in changing it if it still seemed to work.
He drew his hand back through the hole, and moments later, it was followed by one of the largest cocks Izzy had even seen. Even hard, it listed downwards under its own weight, the curve of it almost like it had been made to slip down the back of Izzy's throat.
It also, noticeably, wasn't covered in a condom. As if in this day and age, Izzy shouldn't be expected to worry about such a thing.
He gave the cock a light, remonstrative slap, snorting derisively when the other man jolted in surprise and pulled back.
Some men, honestly.
Izzy tossed a condom after him, waiting impatiently at the fumbling sounds on the other side, taking off his glove as the other man got himself situated. After a few moments, the cock thrust itself hopefully back through the hole, now appropriately sheathed.
His mouth watered in anticipation, but he was well aware that this was his first cock of the evening, and it was a fair sight larger than what he regularly took. Much as he was tempted to simply dive onto it, experience told him he'd need to ease into things. He wrapped a hand around the tip and slid it down to the base, grinding the palm of his other hand against his cock when he realised his fingertips weren't touching around it. The man thrust clumsily into his touch – maybe by dint of his cock being so large and unwieldly, or perhaps inexperience, or even both. Not that it much bothered Izzy, at least like this; he didn't have to verbally coach the man through what he was doing, and it didn't take much finesse for the man to let Izzy simply hold onto the base of his cock and deepthroat himself on it.
Izzy pumped his hand in a long, slow drag, flicking his thumb over the tip, savouring the heft of it in his palm. He licked his lips, anticipatory, shuffling a little closer, still stroking the cock as he brought it to his lips. It jerked in his grip, the man on the other side adjusting to the sensations as they occurred, and Izzy couldn't help but moan as he brought the head of it into his mouth, tongue cupping the underside.
Fuck, but he loved this. He could already feel his focus shrinking, thoughts trickling from his mind, until all that was left was the expectation that he'd gradually be able to open his throat up enough to take this cock all the way to the root. That he'd then be able to hold himself rigidly in place, and let the man on the other side fuck his face until he'd had his fill. Here, the stressors of his life fell away; he was just a hole, made to be used.
The cock hit the back of his soft palate. Years of training it away meant his gag reflex barely reacted, but the cock was thick enough that he'd still need to ease his throat into it, warm it up enough to not cause damage. He could feel the man faintly trembling as Izzy bobbed up and down, taking in a little more with each pass.
His surrounds went hazy, shrinking further to just the cock in his mouth. Time ceased to exist; the only measure he had was how close his lips could get to where his fingers were ringed around the base of the cock. He slipped closer, and closer still, able to smell the heady scent of the man's skin – clean, almost floral, but unmistakably masculine underneath – and only a few more passes later, Izzy felt his lips brush up against his own fingers, the neatly groomed pubic hair crowning the base of the cock tickling at his nose. He let his hand fall away, relishing the feeling of being so deeply filled, letting his throat contract rhythmically. When darkness began to flirt with the edges of his vision in a way that had nothing do with his eyes being closed, he pulled back. He only moved barely enough to let a rush of fresh air into his starved lungs, the sensation close to euphoric, and he moaned as he pushed forward again.
He rapidly fell into an even pace, moving with the kind of control that came of having done this for decades. He swept up and down, over and over, and when the man on the other side pulled back halfway, Izzy got his tongue more actively involved, curling it up around the sides, letting it flicker against the tip. It was a favourite move of Izzy's, and he revelled in the soft grunt it earnt him, unable to keep from repeating it.
The thin wall flexed, like the man on the other side had forgotten about the barrier between them entirely, and had reflexively reached down to pull Izzy further down onto his cock. Izzy felt himself drool a little at the thought, of being forced to take more. Much as he appreciated the convenience and anonymity of a glory hole, it did make having his face properly fucked somewhat more difficult to achieve.
He pushed forward, chasing the feeling as best he could – right as the other man thrust forward with a snap of his hips, near-flush with the wall. Not expecting it, Izzy choked on the massive cock abruptly filling his throat. His entire body rebelled against him as he lurched backwards, entirely on reflex, clumsily gripping at his thighs as he spluttered and coughed.
Fuck. Embarrassing. What a rookie mistake.
"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to do that," the man babbled, still with his hard cock poking through the glory hole. "Are you OK down there?"
"I'm fucking fine," Izzy coughed out automatically, then froze as his brain caught up.
He recognised that voice.
"…Izzy?"
Izzy stayed frozen, if only because looking up at all would bring him eye to eye with Stede Bonnet's enormous cock, what the fuck was even happening? Stede was the deeply closeted bane of Izzy's existence. How the fuck had he gone from cluelessly stringing Edward along, talking about how nice it was to be forming proper male friendships, to sauntering into a gay sex club and sticking his prick through a random hole in a wall to be sucked on?
"Izzy, is that you?"
"Whole fucking point of a glory hole is that it's supposed to be anonymous," Izzy rasped, and, fuck, his voice sounded absolutely wrecked, because he'd just spent the last several minutes gagging on Stede Bonnet's stupid cock.
"Well," Stede replied, and who the fuck else would be able to sound that prissy with their cock stuck through a hole in the wall, "this is my first time at one of these things, you know, I can't be expected to know everything."
"What, didn't do any reading on this before coming?" Izzy coughed, then took a swig from the bottle of water he'd brought with him, attempting to soothe his throat.
"Not– not on, um, glory holes, specifically. I mean, I'm aware of them, conceptually, but I didn't come here seeking one. That sort of just… happened."
Izzy's throat began to settle, and he fought the urge to roll his eyes at the absurdity. Trust Stede fucking Bonnet to trip dick-first into a fucking glory hole. "The fuck d'you come here for, then?" Because why not continue this bizarre fucking conversation? At least it might give Izzy a bit more time to wrap his head around what the fuck had just happened. All the years that he'd been doing some version of this for, and this was the way he found out he was sucking the cock of someone he knew?
"Well, as it turns out, I'm actually gay."
Izzy snorted. "Finally figured that out, did you," he said. "Was that realisation before or after you stuck your cock in my mouth?"
Stede, predictably, started spluttering. "Wh– before, obviously, I'm not that daft!"
"Could've fooled me," Izzy muttered. He finally looked up and–
Stede's fully hard cock was still poking through the fucking glory hole.
Izzy swallowed reflexively, unable to drop his gaze again.
He'd never sucked the cock of someone he knew here, at least not knowingly. Maybe, on occasion, if the other man had the right skin tone and body hair colouration for it, Izzy might've let himself fantasise that it was a certain someone he'd been quietly pining after for the last few decades of his life, but that had nothing to do with Stede. Izzy and Stede didn't even like one another, something they'd both made very clear.
Except now, Stede's cock was still thrust expectantly in his direction, and Izzy's nose was still full of the musky scent of his body, and he found himself salivating despite now knowing who the cock belonged to.
Whatever. He didn't need to like the man to like his cock. Disembodied like this, Izzy could even pretend it was literally anyone else.
He pictured Stede's eyes gazing down at him, their hazel gone dark with lust, and shivered.
"You been tested, Bonnet?" he asked finally, before his mind could wander any further down that path.
"Tested?"
Izzy rolled his eyes and sighed. Clearly not, then. "For STIs," Izzy said anyway, to let Stede know he was being thick.
"Oh! Er, no." Obviously. "I've only ever had sex with my ex-wife, and that stopped once she fell pregnant with Louis, and I... haven't, since then, so, ah, I haven't exactly had the need to check."
"Right," Izzy said, before he could change his mind. "Well, I only ever come here on occasion, when I want to have my face fucked until I can't think, and I've had a test come back all clear after last time I was here, and you're my first cock for the night, so. You want the condom to stay on, or come off?"
"God," Stede muttered, stunned, sounding a bit like someone had whacked him about the head with a rubber mallet.
"If you like," Izzy replied easily. "Still need to know on or off, Bonnet. Or if you've got cold feet now, fuck off so I can have someone else have a go."
"God," Stede blurted out again. "Off, please, if you wouldn't mind–"
"Figures," Izzy sneered, already lifting a hand.
"You asked–" Stede began tetchily, then gasped as Izzy's fingers returned to his cock, peeling off the condom and tossing it into the bin in the corner.
"Here's an etiquette lesson for you, Bonnet, I know you love those," Izzy said, stroking down the length of him. "For this sort of thing, you're supposed to shut the fuck up and get your cock sucked."
There was a sharp inhalation from the other side of the wall and Stede's cock jumped in Izzy's hand. Izzy smirked. "Like being told off, do you?" he said. "That figures, too."
Before Stede had the chance to formulate a response, Izzy sucked the head of Stede's cock back into his mouth, grimacing around the taste of latex and lube left behind. He licked and sucked until the only flavour left was Stede's own skin, and the faint tang of precum already starting to form at his tip.
"Oh, fuck," Stede whimpered, almost too quiet for Izzy to hear, and Izzy felt a bright burst of satisfaction at having tied Stede's normally eloquent tongue in knots. He began to thrust clumsily, a counterpoint to Izzy's movements. His confidence grew with each thrust, if not his accuracy, but his cock was long enough anyway that it stayed in Izzy's mouth all the same, intermittently cutting off his breath. It made Izzy light-headed in a way that he was intimately familiar with, his eyes slipping half-shut. He braced his arms against his thighs, his whole body a taut line as he held himself rigidly in place, leaning full-bodied into the place where he was being fucked.
It wasn't enough, suddenly. He wanted hands in his hair, to be steered into place, to be able to allow his body to go lax, to truly be used.
Maybe, somewhere deep down, he wanted to see the approving look on Stede's face as he made use of him.
Which was objectively stupid, he knew. Part of the whole reason he came here was so that he didn't have to seek out other men's approval. And even it was something he actively sought, he wouldn't search from it from Stede, of all people.
Still… maybe it would be nice to pretend that something like that could be his, for a while. It didn't have to exist outside of the liminal space that was the glory hole booth. It didn't have to mean anything.
He cracked his eyelids open, gaze sliding to the door separating the booths.
He'd never invited whoever was on the other side of the partition into his booth before, but he also had never known who was on the other side before. The anonymity of it was shot to pieces, so what difference did it make, really, if Stede could see his face as he fucked it?
He pulled off, tracing a finger along the underside of Stede's cock to watch him shudder. "You want to come into the booth?" he husked, voice still far rougher than usual.
"...Instead of your mouth?" Stede asked, entirely gormless. Izzy, very charitably, decided that it was because Izzy had sucked him stupid, rather than it actually being par for the course for Stede's level of intelligence.
"No, Bonnet, I meant opening that door on your right, walking in here, and fucking my face properly. You know how doors work, right?"
"Right," Stede replied in that same dazed tone as before. His cock withdrew from the hole, and Izzy pivoted towards the door. Despite himself, his heartrate picked up. It had been quite some time since he'd had anything but fully anonymous sex. Having Stede, of all people, be the one to break that streak still felt a little surreal, but–
Izzy heard the sound of a zipper being done up in the next room, and felt himself go cold.
He wasn't going to take it personally. The man had only very recently realised he was gay, the last time he'd fucked anyone it had been presumably passionless, procreative sex. He'd just been spooked off by the prospect of looking down and being able to put a name to the face he was fucking. It would've happened if it had been anyone kneeling in the booth, it wasn't because it was Izzy specifically, it wasn't that Izzy was only good enough to fuck when no one could see him, he just–
The door between the booths opened and Stede stumbled in, trousers hastily zipped and his shirt half-untucked, face flushed with eagerness.
Fuck. OK, maybe Izzy needed to do a little introspection on his self-esteem at some point, because he'd spiralled appallingly quickly there.
That could definitely wait until after he'd finished sucking Stede's unfairly huge cock, though.
"Who the fuck does up their trousers, just to take them back down two seconds later?" he grumbled to cover his embarrassment.
"I would've looked silly, just having it dangle there!" Stede protested, turning pinker.
"You look silly now, standing there all done up! Expect me to just suck you through the cotton, do you?"
"These are a linen blend," Stede replied haughtily, because of course that was what made sense for him to fixate on. How the man hadn't realised he was gay earlier, Izzy would never know.
"Could be fucking silk and lace for all I care," Izzy retorted, impatient.
"Oh, well, my boxers are silk, actually–"
Fucking Christ, of course they were. "Are you going to take them off?" Izzy growled, entirely too impatient, and shuffled over to do it him-fucking-self, if Stede was going to keep getting distracted.
"Oh, yes, right, sorry," Stede babbled, reaching down to help, predictably ending up more of a hindrance.
"Not helping," Izzy warned him.
Stede huffed, and continued to be a nuisance. "You told me to–"
"You were being too slow," Izzy said, finally – no thanks to Stede – pulling his prize free of its confines.
"Would've gone faster if you'd just– oh fuck," Stede gasped out as Izzy swallowed him down again, nearly all the way to the root. His hands instinctively went to rise to grip the backs of Stede's thighs, and he had to remind himself that he was better than that. His grip went to his own thighs again, fingers denting his skin through the leather.
The soft creak of the fabric seemed to stir something in Stede, cock twitching against Izzy's tongue as his fingers curled into Izzy's hair, easing him back.
"The fuck is it now?" Izzy rasped, panting slightly, deliberately letting his hot breath brush over the glistening head of Stede's cock.
Whatever brief burst of unearnt confidence had seized Stede in its grip seemed to subside, and he blushed, gaze dropping to somewhere just above Izzy's left shoulder.
"Couldyouusethegloveagain?" he mumbled, the tips of his ears turning red to match his cheeks.
Izzy cocked an eyebrow up at him. "Speak up, Bonnet."
Stede huffed and gave him a glare, face still flushed. "I said, I'd like it if you used your glove again. Please," he tacked on, like he was loathe to be polite to specifically Izzy.
Izzy held his tongue, but kept an eyebrow raised, not breaking eye contact as he pulled the glove from his pocket and slipped it back on over his fingers. The silent regard seemed to get to Stede more than anything Izzy could have said, and when Izzy wrapped his gloved hand around the base of Stede's cock, Stede's own hands shot forward. One landed on Izzy's shoulder, clutching tight for stability, and the other tangled in his hair, tilting his head back to look at Stede's panting face.
"That what you're after, Bonnet?" Izzy couldn't help but murmur, drawing his hand up the length of Stede's cock. With only Izzy’s spit to slick the way, it wasn’t the smoothest motion it could have been, but the catch and drag of the leather almost seemed to be the point for Stede.
"Yes," he breathed, and looked like he was about to add more, when Izzy pumped his hand again, making Stede's fingers flex tighter in his hair. Izzy wasn't sure if it was a cue, but he elected to take it as one, kissing his lips to the tip of Stede's cock. Stede let out a shaky sound, his hips twitching forward, and it didn't take long for Izzy to get them back to where they'd been previously, Stede slipping easily down the back of his throat. Harder to contend with was Stede's insistence on maintaining eye contact, his expression rapt and ravenous as he watched his cock disappear into Izzy's mouth.
Izzy probably should have seen it coming, but Stede's thrusts were gentler, now that they were in the same room. Like he'd only remembered that the mouth that had been on the other side of the wall actually belonged to a person, now that he could actively see Izzy's face. It meant entirely too much eye contact, making Izzy's skin prickle with the vulnerability of it, leaving him with enough control that he still had space to think.
Enough that his mind began to wander dangerous places.
Enough that he began to wonder whether the animosity Stede held for him stemmed from somewhere else entirely.
Izzy pulled off with a hum of displeasure.
"I had you come in here to fuck my face, least you could do is put your fucking back into it," he growled, scowling up at Stede for having the audacity to treat him tenderly.
"Are– are you sure? I don't want to– rupture anything, I've heard that can happen–"
"I've been doing this for decades, I know my fucking limits. You think I haven't taken cock this big before?"
Stede's pupils dilated fractionally, cock twitching in Izzy's hand.
Izzy snorted, derisive. "You're getting off on just the idea of it, you dirty fuck, don't act like you don't want to take over and have your fill." He bit the inside of his cheek, keeping in anything that might've started to sound like it was begging. Izzy was not about to beg for the likes of Stede Bonnet.
"I do," Stede whispered. "God," he said, again. "Is there something wrong with me?"
"Oh, definitely," Izzy agreed. "Nothing to do with your cock in my mouth, though. Hop to it."
Stede's breath was still a little shaky, but he pushed both hands into Izzy's hair, gripping firmly and steering Izzy's mouth back towards his cock. Izzy made a soft, involuntary little sound as it passed over his lips again, pressing in, in, inexorably in, beyond the tension of the back of his throat, past the point where he could breathe.
Izzy's hand fell away from Stede's cock. He intended to let it drop back down to his own knee, but miscalculated slightly, gloved fingertips catching against Stede's bare ankle. God, Izzy really was sucking off a man in boat shoes and no-show socks, wasn't he, how fucking pathetic.
Stede eased his way out again, using his grip on Izzy's hair to manoeuvre himself in and out. He was still a little hesitant, but Izzy's aggressive insistence that he could take it finally seemed to have penetrated Stede's thick skull, and he gradually picked up his pace.
He was still watching Izzy's face intently, eyes tracking the way Izzy's lips stretched around his cock. As his thrusts grew more forceful, Izzy gratefully leapt at the excuse to let his eyelids flutter shut, finally able to ignore the odd sensation stirring in his chest under Stede's attention.
"You take that so well, don't you," Stede murmured above him, pushing in to the root once more, no resistance. Izzy only gave him a vague hum, his head feeling light at the absence of air passing down into his lungs.
Stede's other hand rose from Izzy's shoulder, both curling around his head, and finally began to fuck his face in earnest.
It probably said something about Izzy, that something this close to violence made him relax completely. Then again, he'd always been like this. No point in pretending to be something he wasn't.
Right now, he was just a hole, and that suited him just fine.
Stede was babbling absolute nonsense above him, but it only came through as white noise, leaving Izzy with no idea whether Stede was stringing together cogent sentences or not. There was only the cock in his throat, and the hands in his hair, dragging him down onto it. His mind was a blissful, blank expanse, where even breathing seemed a distant, secondary concern. Regardless, Stede pulled Izzy's head back far enough on each thrust to allow him to breathe, a passive, gurgling sound that made heat coil low in Izzy's abdomen. It seemed to spur Stede on, too, the forcefulness bringing involuntary tears to Izzy's eyes, streaming from between his still-closed lids, trickling down into his beard to mingle with the spillover of saliva from his well-fucked mouth.
Izzy wasn't sure how long had passed. Between the fact that this was Stede's first time with a man, and his first time having sex in nearly a decade, it really couldn't have been all too long, but Izzy's conceptualisation of time had fled entirely. Eventually, though, Stede's thrusts began to develop a telltale erratic stutter. Izzy's body was lax and loose enough that he couldn't muster the wherewithal to lift his arms and grab at the back of Stede's thighs, so he just sucked harder and hoped Stede would understand his intention.
Stede showed no signs of pulling back, even without Izzy's intervention. Izzy sank into it gratefully, letting out a low moan that had Stede's thrusts turning even more frenzied – then, with a long groan of his own, Stede grabbed more firmly onto the back of Izzy's head, pulled him all the way flush, and came down the back of Izzy's throat.
He was pressed deep enough that Izzy couldn't even taste it, probably didn't even need to swallow. Still, his throat worked reflexively, milking Stede for all he was worth as spots crowded the edge of his vision, Stede's hands still holding him down. Distantly, he felt the urge to laugh, imagining the panicked frenzy Stede would be sent into if Izzy actually choked into unconsciousness on his cock. Stede finally seemed to cotton on that that might be a possibility, and loosened his grip on Izzy's hair, easing his hips back until he slipped free.
The wall was close enough for Stede to lean on, and he sagged against it, panting like he'd been the one with a cock shoved down his throat. He tucked himself away and zipped up almost immediately, probably driven by the same weird sense of propriety that had made him do the same earlier. Izzy took a few moments longer, hands curled almost demurely in his lap for a few moments, just until he'd gathered himself enough to fish the packet of tissues from his pocket. He wiped the mess from his face, tossing the soiled tissue into the bin, then let his hands drift back to his lap, partially covering himself so that Stede didn't get any ideas.
Izzy would probably still furiously rub one out when he got home after this, but that was really no one's business but his own. In any case, he was discombobulated enough by the whole situation still, that he knew he wouldn't be in the right headspace to spend the full evening he'd planned to at the glory hole.
Eventually, Izzy got his breathing under control enough that he no longer sounded like he'd just run a marathon, and eased himself to his feet with a faint grunt, running his fingers through his hair to fix the disarray Stede had left it in.
"All right, Bonnet?" he asked, his voice sounding absolutely destroyed. Fuck, he was going to sound like this for days.
"I'm fine. More than fine, actually, I…" His gaze flicked down to just below Izzy's belt, then back up again, questioning. "Are… are you?"
"Fucking peachy," Izzy replied, folding his arms. "You'll want to leave through the door on your side," he prompted. "You need to get the lock. I'm guessing you're not staying for the next person on this side."
Something inscrutable passed over Stede's face. "I… no, you're right. Well. This was very… I'll see you on Monday, I suppose?" he offered.
Izzy gave him a vaguely quizzical look, mind still too deep in that calm, blank expanse to grasp onto the significance of any given day of the week.
"At work?" Stede clarified, falteringly.
Oh.
Oh, fuck.