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OFMD FIC: Open Up, Take Me In
Title: Open Up, Take Me In
Pairing: Izzy/Jack
Rating: NC17
Words: ~1,100
Summary: Jack slides his other hand down to the lowest part of Izzy's belly, right where it curves into the top of his cunt. "Be good and take it for me."
Notes: I started this as a twitfic for ofmdpussybingo, but it got too long. Prompts: grinding, object insertion, and squirting. The possessive behavior is free. There is zero plot here, beyond Jack getting whiskey dick and getting creative. Trans Izzy. Words used for his anatomy: cock, cunt, hole. Probably set in the same universe as Fire Down Below.
[AO3]
Open Up, Take Me In
"Jack," Izzy hisses, his voice weak, choked. His hand shakes as he reaches down and tugs at Jack's hair.
Jack makes a low, rough noise right into Izzy's cunt. He tightens his grip on Izzy's hips and somehow—somehow—pulls Izzy closer to his mouth. He drags his lips up Izzy's slit, slippery and slow, then curls his tongue over Izzy's aching, over-sensitive cock. Izzy's whole body jolts with it: back arching, hips jerking, head tipping back. Jack doesn't stop; he just makes another noise and licks at Izzy's cock again and again and again. Izzy grabs at the bedding with his free hand and digs his heels into Jack's sides. His thighs tremble against Jack's shoulders.
He says, "Jack," again, almost a whine. The heat in his gut is jagged, sharp, edged like a knife. It feels like he's crawling out of his skin. "Jack, please. I'm… I can't—"
"Can't what?" Jack asks, like Izzy hasn't come three times, like the last time hadn't had him clawing at Jack's shoulders and squirming away from Jack's mouth. He gives Izzy the flat of his tongue—a broad, soft-wet stripe from hole to cock. "God damn, sweetheart. You taste good."
He shifts a little, easing his hold on Izzy's hips, and then his hands are on Izzy's cunt, thumbs teasing over the tight skin above his asshole before sliding up to tuck between his lips and spread him open. He presses a few sloppy kisses to Izzy's cock, and a few more over his hole. He laps there for a moment, right where Izzy is slick and open, then slips his tongue inside and fucks Izzy with it, all twisting, curling heat. It's a sudden shock after coming empty so many times, after clamping down on nothing again and again and again. He yanks at Jack's hair, his hips giving another jerk as he shudders and gulps air.
"Yeah, sweetheart. Lemme have a little more." Jack rubs his thumb over Izzy's hole, not quite dipping in. "Fuck, you're so wet."
Izzy's fucking soaked. He can feel it everywhere—all over his cunt, on the insides of his thighs, down the curve of his ass, underneath him on the bedding. Jack's cheeks and jaw and chin are slick with it, his mustache so heavy and damp it barely prickles as he slides his mouth back up to Izzy's cock. He strokes it with his thumb, then his tongue, then his thumb again, and then he grins up at Izzy and sucks it into his mouth.
"Fuck!"
Jack sucks and sucks and sucks, all dragging lips and curling tongue, and the pleasure that jolts through Izzy is so bright and sharp that it almost fucking hurts. It flares all over his body: at the back of his neck, the base of his spine, the dips of his knees, the soles of his feet. His eyes start to sting, and a thin, whimpering noise catches in his throat. He grabs at Jack's hair again, not pushing him away but not not.
Jack looks up at him, his mouth wet and swollen and flushed red. He grins again and asks, "Too much?"
"Yes," Izzy admits. It's way too fucking much. But he so rarely gets to have this—to be taken care of, to feel fucking wanted—just the two or three times a year he and Jack end up in the same port. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't gonna." Jack runs two fingers up and down Izzy's slit, rubbing them around until they're wetter than his face. "Can you come again?"
Izzy starts to say no—he's too wrung out, and his cock is throbbing from being touched so much—but then Jack's fingers push into his hole and all that comes out of his mouth is another choked-off whimper. Jack pins Izzy's hip to the bed with his free hand, and he leans up on that elbow, watching himself touch Izzy's cunt in a way that sparks at the too-sharp heat roiling in Izzy's gut. His fingers are thicker than Izzy's, longer, can reach deeper than Izzy's can reach. He twists them, and then curls them up, and then—there. There. Izzy's whole body snaps taut. His legs start to shake. Fuck. Fuck.
"Yeah, c'mon," Jack urges, low. He strokes his thumb over Izzy's cock, sweet little circles that have Izzy's blood pounding in his ears. "Come on my hand, sweetheart. Gimme something to think about when I'm sailing without you."
And that—fuck. Jack's thumb strokes over Izzy's cock again, and Izzy just shatters the fuck apart. It feels punched out of him, yanked up from his gut and out through his chest, erupting like a fire in a fucking powder hold. It's too much, too much. Something cramps inside him, every muscle in his body straining and twitching and clamping down. Distantly, he hears Jack talking—yeah, sweetheart, just like that. Tears well in his eyes. He makes a desperate, garbled noise and shoves Jack's hand away from his cunt.
Jack says, "You," and crawls up the bed for a kiss. He slides his tongue into Izzy's slack, gasping mouth, the slick drying on his facing making his lips sticky and his mustache stiff. After a moment, he sits up on his knees and unlaces his pants. He asks, "Can you take a little more for me?" and runs his still-wet hand over his cock. "I ain't gonna need much."
Izzy—he can't. He's fucking done. But he likes having Jack inside him, more than he's ever been willing to admit. He hooks one shaky leg around Jack's hip and pulls Jack down on top of him by the front of his shirt.
"Yeah."
Jack kisses Izzy again, all tongue and teeth, and then his cock is nudging at Izzy's hole and he's pushing in and in and in. Even after having Jack's fingers in him, he feels split open, stretched wide. It's good—so good—but it really is too fucking much. By the time Jack's fully sheathed, Izzy's eyes are wet and he's fucking shaking again. Jack thrusts a little—easy, slow—and Izzy clenches his fingers in Jack's sleeves and hisses behind his teeth.
"Fuck," Jack mumbles. His hips jerk like he's already teetering on the edge. "Is it good?"
Izzy says, "Yeah," and rocks up to meet Jack's next thrust. He can't come again—his cock is too sore, and his body has nothing left—but he likes being full, likes having Jack on top of him. "Yeah."
In and in and in. Jack says, "Didn't mean to go so hard on you earlier. I just… I never know when I'm gonna see you again, and I—fuck." He shivers and sucks in a breath. "God damn, you feel good. You always feel so fucking good."
Heat burns in Izzy's cheeks; he feels too open and exposed when Jack talks like that. He closes his eyes, but Jack catches his face in one hand. The thumb he hooks into Izzy's mouth tastes like his cunt.
"You think I'm just talking?" Jack asks, his voice suddenly sharp at the edges. He snaps his hips a few more times, hard enough that Izzy starts inching up the bed. "Truth is, I think about your cunt all the fucking time. I wish I had it all to myself. Don't want no one else touching it."
"Jack—"
"I never shoulda let Eddie have you. I shoulda—fuck." Jack slides his hand up to Izzy's hair and tugs on it, hard. "Izzy, fuck. I'm… can I—?"
"Yeah," Izzy says. He's never let Jack come in him—he's always been too afraid of the risk—but he's old enough now that it doesn't matter. And he wants ii, wants to feel it. "Do it. Fill me up." He tightens up around Jack's cock a little, smiling when a moan catches in Jack's throat. "It's all yours."
That does it. Jack thrusts into Izzy—once, twice—and then he's coming, gasping as he shudders and hunches over Izzy, one hand still pulling at Izzy's hair and the other fisting in the bedding. A beat passes, then another, then another. He takes a slow, deep breath and flops onto his back. His hand slides over Izzy's thigh.
He asks, "How long are you gonna be around?"
Izzy—he'd told himself when the Revenge made port that if Jack was here and still wanted him, he's stop being a fucking coward. He forces his voice steady as he asks, "How long do you want me around?"
Jack makes a quiet, curious noise and rolls onto his side. "What're you saying?"
"I'm saying, I might stay with you, if you ask nice."
"How nice?"
Izzy smacks his shoulder for that. Jack huffs out a laugh, then catches Izzy's arm and tugs until they're lying face to face.
He asks, "You mean that?"
"Yeah."
"What about Eddie?"
Saying, "Ed doesn't need me," makes Izzy's chest ache, but it's the truth. "He's got Bonnet. And Bonnet doesn't want me around."
Jack says, "Fucking Steve," and pulls an idiotic face. "I can't believe Eddie threw you over for that twat."
"Ed and I were never like that, except in your fucking head."
"You left with him," Jack insists. He palms the side of Izzy's neck, right over the swallow tattoo. "After the mutiny. You—"
"I left with him because he asked," Izzy says. "You didn't."
Jack sighs. "I know. I fucked that all up. And I didn't realize how badly I fucked it up until I was watching you sail away from me." He leans in and presses a kiss to Izzy's jaw. "I'm asking now, and I'm asking nice. Could use a first mate."
"You don't have one?"
"Haven't had one in… I don't know." Jack shrugs. "Twelve years? Fifteen?"
"What?"
"Was kinda holding it open for you, in case you ever changed your mind."
Izzy smacks his shoulder again. "This is why you keep getting mutinied on."
"Probably. But I got you now, yeah?" Jack bites at a spot below Izzy's ear as he continues, "You'll set my ship straight."
He's hard again; Izzy wraps a hand around his cock and says, "Yeah, I will."
Pairing: Izzy/Jack
Rating: NC17
Words: ~1,100
Summary: Jack slides his other hand down to the lowest part of Izzy's belly, right where it curves into the top of his cunt. "Be good and take it for me."
Notes: I started this as a twitfic for ofmdpussybingo, but it got too long. Prompts: grinding, object insertion, and squirting. The possessive behavior is free. There is zero plot here, beyond Jack getting whiskey dick and getting creative. Trans Izzy. Words used for his anatomy: cock, cunt, hole. Probably set in the same universe as Fire Down Below.
[AO3]
"Jack," Izzy hisses, his voice weak, choked. His hand shakes as he reaches down and tugs at Jack's hair.
Jack makes a low, rough noise right into Izzy's cunt. He tightens his grip on Izzy's hips and somehow—somehow—pulls Izzy closer to his mouth. He drags his lips up Izzy's slit, slippery and slow, then curls his tongue over Izzy's aching, over-sensitive cock. Izzy's whole body jolts with it: back arching, hips jerking, head tipping back. Jack doesn't stop; he just makes another noise and licks at Izzy's cock again and again and again. Izzy grabs at the bedding with his free hand and digs his heels into Jack's sides. His thighs tremble against Jack's shoulders.
He says, "Jack," again, almost a whine. The heat in his gut is jagged, sharp, edged like a knife. It feels like he's crawling out of his skin. "Jack, please. I'm… I can't—"
"Can't what?" Jack asks, like Izzy hasn't come three times, like the last time hadn't had him clawing at Jack's shoulders and squirming away from Jack's mouth. He gives Izzy the flat of his tongue—a broad, soft-wet stripe from hole to cock. "God damn, sweetheart. You taste good."
He shifts a little, easing his hold on Izzy's hips, and then his hands are on Izzy's cunt, thumbs teasing over the tight skin above his asshole before sliding up to tuck between his lips and spread him open. He presses a few sloppy kisses to Izzy's cock, and a few more over his hole. He laps there for a moment, right where Izzy is slick and open, then slips his tongue inside and fucks Izzy with it, all twisting, curling heat. It's a sudden shock after coming empty so many times, after clamping down on nothing again and again and again. He yanks at Jack's hair, his hips giving another jerk as he shudders and gulps air.
"Yeah, sweetheart. Lemme have a little more." Jack rubs his thumb over Izzy's hole, not quite dipping in. "Fuck, you're so wet."
Izzy's fucking soaked. He can feel it everywhere—all over his cunt, on the insides of his thighs, down the curve of his ass, underneath him on the bedding. Jack's cheeks and jaw and chin are slick with it, his mustache so heavy and damp it barely prickles as he slides his mouth back up to Izzy's cock. He strokes it with his thumb, then his tongue, then his thumb again, and then he grins up at Izzy and sucks it into his mouth.
"Fuck!"
Jack sucks and sucks and sucks, all dragging lips and curling tongue, and the pleasure that jolts through Izzy is so bright and sharp that it almost fucking hurts. It flares all over his body: at the back of his neck, the base of his spine, the dips of his knees, the soles of his feet. His eyes start to sting, and a thin, whimpering noise catches in his throat. He grabs at Jack's hair again, not pushing him away but not not.
Jack looks up at him, his mouth wet and swollen and flushed red. He grins again and asks, "Too much?"
"Yes," Izzy admits. It's way too fucking much. But he so rarely gets to have this—to be taken care of, to feel fucking wanted—just the two or three times a year he and Jack end up in the same port. "Don't stop."
"Wasn't gonna." Jack runs two fingers up and down Izzy's slit, rubbing them around until they're wetter than his face. "Can you come again?"
Izzy starts to say no—he's too wrung out, and his cock is throbbing from being touched so much—but then Jack's fingers push into his hole and all that comes out of his mouth is another choked-off whimper. Jack pins Izzy's hip to the bed with his free hand, and he leans up on that elbow, watching himself touch Izzy's cunt in a way that sparks at the too-sharp heat roiling in Izzy's gut. His fingers are thicker than Izzy's, longer, can reach deeper than Izzy's can reach. He twists them, and then curls them up, and then—there. There. Izzy's whole body snaps taut. His legs start to shake. Fuck. Fuck.
"Yeah, c'mon," Jack urges, low. He strokes his thumb over Izzy's cock, sweet little circles that have Izzy's blood pounding in his ears. "Come on my hand, sweetheart. Gimme something to think about when I'm sailing without you."
And that—fuck. Jack's thumb strokes over Izzy's cock again, and Izzy just shatters the fuck apart. It feels punched out of him, yanked up from his gut and out through his chest, erupting like a fire in a fucking powder hold. It's too much, too much. Something cramps inside him, every muscle in his body straining and twitching and clamping down. Distantly, he hears Jack talking—yeah, sweetheart, just like that. Tears well in his eyes. He makes a desperate, garbled noise and shoves Jack's hand away from his cunt.
Jack says, "You," and crawls up the bed for a kiss. He slides his tongue into Izzy's slack, gasping mouth, the slick drying on his facing making his lips sticky and his mustache stiff. After a moment, he sits up on his knees and unlaces his pants. He asks, "Can you take a little more for me?" and runs his still-wet hand over his cock. "I ain't gonna need much."
Izzy—he can't. He's fucking done. But he likes having Jack inside him, more than he's ever been willing to admit. He hooks one shaky leg around Jack's hip and pulls Jack down on top of him by the front of his shirt.
"Yeah."
Jack kisses Izzy again, all tongue and teeth, and then his cock is nudging at Izzy's hole and he's pushing in and in and in. Even after having Jack's fingers in him, he feels split open, stretched wide. It's good—so good—but it really is too fucking much. By the time Jack's fully sheathed, Izzy's eyes are wet and he's fucking shaking again. Jack thrusts a little—easy, slow—and Izzy clenches his fingers in Jack's sleeves and hisses behind his teeth.
"Fuck," Jack mumbles. His hips jerk like he's already teetering on the edge. "Is it good?"
Izzy says, "Yeah," and rocks up to meet Jack's next thrust. He can't come again—his cock is too sore, and his body has nothing left—but he likes being full, likes having Jack on top of him. "Yeah."
In and in and in. Jack says, "Didn't mean to go so hard on you earlier. I just… I never know when I'm gonna see you again, and I—fuck." He shivers and sucks in a breath. "God damn, you feel good. You always feel so fucking good."
Heat burns in Izzy's cheeks; he feels too open and exposed when Jack talks like that. He closes his eyes, but Jack catches his face in one hand. The thumb he hooks into Izzy's mouth tastes like his cunt.
"You think I'm just talking?" Jack asks, his voice suddenly sharp at the edges. He snaps his hips a few more times, hard enough that Izzy starts inching up the bed. "Truth is, I think about your cunt all the fucking time. I wish I had it all to myself. Don't want no one else touching it."
"Jack—"
"I never shoulda let Eddie have you. I shoulda—fuck." Jack slides his hand up to Izzy's hair and tugs on it, hard. "Izzy, fuck. I'm… can I—?"
"Yeah," Izzy says. He's never let Jack come in him—he's always been too afraid of the risk—but he's old enough now that it doesn't matter. And he wants ii, wants to feel it. "Do it. Fill me up." He tightens up around Jack's cock a little, smiling when a moan catches in Jack's throat. "It's all yours."
That does it. Jack thrusts into Izzy—once, twice—and then he's coming, gasping as he shudders and hunches over Izzy, one hand still pulling at Izzy's hair and the other fisting in the bedding. A beat passes, then another, then another. He takes a slow, deep breath and flops onto his back. His hand slides over Izzy's thigh.
He asks, "How long are you gonna be around?"
Izzy—he'd told himself when the Revenge made port that if Jack was here and still wanted him, he's stop being a fucking coward. He forces his voice steady as he asks, "How long do you want me around?"
Jack makes a quiet, curious noise and rolls onto his side. "What're you saying?"
"I'm saying, I might stay with you, if you ask nice."
"How nice?"
Izzy smacks his shoulder for that. Jack huffs out a laugh, then catches Izzy's arm and tugs until they're lying face to face.
He asks, "You mean that?"
"Yeah."
"What about Eddie?"
Saying, "Ed doesn't need me," makes Izzy's chest ache, but it's the truth. "He's got Bonnet. And Bonnet doesn't want me around."
Jack says, "Fucking Steve," and pulls an idiotic face. "I can't believe Eddie threw you over for that twat."
"Ed and I were never like that, except in your fucking head."
"You left with him," Jack insists. He palms the side of Izzy's neck, right over the swallow tattoo. "After the mutiny. You—"
"I left with him because he asked," Izzy says. "You didn't."
Jack sighs. "I know. I fucked that all up. And I didn't realize how badly I fucked it up until I was watching you sail away from me." He leans in and presses a kiss to Izzy's jaw. "I'm asking now, and I'm asking nice. Could use a first mate."
"You don't have one?"
"Haven't had one in… I don't know." Jack shrugs. "Twelve years? Fifteen?"
"What?"
"Was kinda holding it open for you, in case you ever changed your mind."
Izzy smacks his shoulder again. "This is why you keep getting mutinied on."
"Probably. But I got you now, yeah?" Jack bites at a spot below Izzy's ear as he continues, "You'll set my ship straight."
He's hard again; Izzy wraps a hand around his cock and says, "Yeah, I will."