![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
OFMD FICLET: welcome home
welcome home
Izzy/Everyone | adult | ~1,000 words
Inspired by![[personal profile]](https://p2.dreamwidth.org/e0caa790ec10/1150150-122039/twitter.com/favicon.ico)
omgitshecklmao and IzzysNplPiercin, who thought Izzy should get a warm welcome on the Queen Anne. Originally posted here.
--
Izzy's barely across the gangway to the Queen Anne when a hand death-grips his arm and yanks him on deck. It's Horace, looking grayer and more potbellied than the last time Izzy saw him, some five or six months ago. A murmur runs through the crew as Ed climbs aboard, and someone—James? Stump?—shouts, "He's back! Blackbeard's back!" but most of the men gather around Izzy.
Another hand—Iskander—grabs Izzy's arm. Horace pulls Izzy back against his chest and barks, "I got him first. Piss off and wait your turn."
"Greedy cunt," Iskander grumbles. "You better not hog him."
Horace flips Iskander the bird, then shuffles Izzy away—past the hatch and toward the railing. He unlaces Izzy's pants as they go.
"Wait," Izzy says, confused. He has a place for this, a porthole into one of the storage holds, where he can lean through and leave his cunt and ass in the passageway for anyone who wants it. "Up here?"
"Ain't none of us waiting that long," Horace replies. "It's been months." He shoves Izzy's pants down past his knees, then bends Izzy over a barrel and skims his rough, blunt fingers right over Izzy's hole. "Look at that, Boss. You're already wet."
Behind them, Lucius yelps. "Oh, my God," high-pitched and startled. "What the fuck?"
Fang laughs. "The boys are just saying hello."
"And he… he…?"
"He loves it. Gets stroppy if he goes empty too long."
"Well, that explains a lot."
Izzy opens his mouth around a nasty retort, but Horace finally pushes in and it wavers into a moan. Horace starts pumping his hips, artless and rabbit-quick. Izzy won't get off like this—not without fingers on his cock—but it feels good to have a chest at his back and a cock in his cunt, to be held down and stuffed full.
"Dareem hired a guy," Horace says, panting now. His fingers are digging bruises at Izzy's waist. "About a month after you left. Picked him up at a molly-house." He pauses there to grunt out a noise, still snapping his hips too fast. "All he did was complain about the food and how bored he was when we were on deck. And he didn't take it half as good as you."
Izzy moans, shivering, still not close to coming but out of his head from being used—on being wanted, needed, appreciated. His cunt clenches up, and that's enough to pull Horace over the edge, his chest heaving and his hips stuttering, losing what little rhythm he had. Before he catches his breath, Iskander is pushing him off Izzy and out of the way. He tugs at Izzy's hips a little, angling them differently. He ruts against Izzy's cunt long enough to wet his cock before shoving in and in and in.
"Fuck, Boss. You're tighter than a stopper knot. Captain hasn't been taking care of you right."
Izzy shivers again—he doesn't want to talk about Ed, who barely let Izzy out of his bed while Bonnet was gone and now hardly talks to him—but Iskander starts fucking him so hard it's all he can do to keep himself from falling off the barrel. His ears are ringing. His pulse is pounding in his throat. By the time Iskander comes, something liquid and warm is buzzing under Izzy's skin.
Iskander moves away and someone else steps up. Oil drizzles over his asshole. A voice—Stump—asks, "This alright, Boss?"
Izzy can't speak; he nods and slurs out something wordless that curls up at the end, pleased. Stump's fingers nudge into him, twisting and stretching and curling, and then his cock, big enough to make him ache. Once inside, Stump is ruthless, relentless, pounding, and it's good—so fucking good. He rubs two fingers over Izzy's cock, sweet circles right over the head. Izzy comes hard, seizing up and curling in on himself, gulping air and still unable to breathe.
He loses track of things after that, exhausted but still flush and floating from being wanted, desired. The next cock goes in his cunt, and the next one, and the next one, all of them, filling him and filling him and spilling inside him. The next one is Red Tom; Izzy recognizes the ring through the head of his cock when it grazes the back of his thigh.
He pats Izzy's side and says, "On your back, Boss." Izzy's too boneless to move, but several hands grab at him and help him turn over. Red Tom removes Izzy's boots and pants and hoists one of his legs over his shoulder. He hisses, "God damn," as he sinks in. "I almost forgot how good your pussy is."
The praise crashes over Izzy like a wave, rolling in and dragging over every part of him. He blinks up at the brilliant, cloudless sky, still brimming with something liquid and warm. Red Tom is hammering into him, dripping sweat onto Izzy's belly and gripping more bruises into Izzy's hips. A shadow cuts across them—Hawkins. He snags a hand in Izzy's hair and rubs his cock over Izzy's lips.
"Open up, Boss."
Izzy's tired; all he can do is get his tongue flat against Hawkins' cock and let Hawkins fuck his mouth. And Hawkins does, fast and a little deeper than is comfortable, given the angle. His hand tightens in Izzy's hair and his cock bumps the back of Izzy's throat. Spit pools in Izzy's mouth. Red Tom comes, and someone steps up and takes his place.
Ivan. He draws the head of his cock up and down Izzy's slit but asks, "Boss?" before pushing in. "Can you take a little more? I'm the last one."
Ivan usually goes last. And after, he takes Izzy down to his cabin and wraps him in a blanket and sits with him until he comes back to himself.
Izzy flushes just thinking about it. He pulls off Hawkins' cock long enough to croak out, "Yeah."
Izzy/Everyone | adult | ~1,000 words
Inspired by
--
Izzy's barely across the gangway to the Queen Anne when a hand death-grips his arm and yanks him on deck. It's Horace, looking grayer and more potbellied than the last time Izzy saw him, some five or six months ago. A murmur runs through the crew as Ed climbs aboard, and someone—James? Stump?—shouts, "He's back! Blackbeard's back!" but most of the men gather around Izzy.
Another hand—Iskander—grabs Izzy's arm. Horace pulls Izzy back against his chest and barks, "I got him first. Piss off and wait your turn."
"Greedy cunt," Iskander grumbles. "You better not hog him."
Horace flips Iskander the bird, then shuffles Izzy away—past the hatch and toward the railing. He unlaces Izzy's pants as they go.
"Wait," Izzy says, confused. He has a place for this, a porthole into one of the storage holds, where he can lean through and leave his cunt and ass in the passageway for anyone who wants it. "Up here?"
"Ain't none of us waiting that long," Horace replies. "It's been months." He shoves Izzy's pants down past his knees, then bends Izzy over a barrel and skims his rough, blunt fingers right over Izzy's hole. "Look at that, Boss. You're already wet."
Behind them, Lucius yelps. "Oh, my God," high-pitched and startled. "What the fuck?"
Fang laughs. "The boys are just saying hello."
"And he… he…?"
"He loves it. Gets stroppy if he goes empty too long."
"Well, that explains a lot."
Izzy opens his mouth around a nasty retort, but Horace finally pushes in and it wavers into a moan. Horace starts pumping his hips, artless and rabbit-quick. Izzy won't get off like this—not without fingers on his cock—but it feels good to have a chest at his back and a cock in his cunt, to be held down and stuffed full.
"Dareem hired a guy," Horace says, panting now. His fingers are digging bruises at Izzy's waist. "About a month after you left. Picked him up at a molly-house." He pauses there to grunt out a noise, still snapping his hips too fast. "All he did was complain about the food and how bored he was when we were on deck. And he didn't take it half as good as you."
Izzy moans, shivering, still not close to coming but out of his head from being used—on being wanted, needed, appreciated. His cunt clenches up, and that's enough to pull Horace over the edge, his chest heaving and his hips stuttering, losing what little rhythm he had. Before he catches his breath, Iskander is pushing him off Izzy and out of the way. He tugs at Izzy's hips a little, angling them differently. He ruts against Izzy's cunt long enough to wet his cock before shoving in and in and in.
"Fuck, Boss. You're tighter than a stopper knot. Captain hasn't been taking care of you right."
Izzy shivers again—he doesn't want to talk about Ed, who barely let Izzy out of his bed while Bonnet was gone and now hardly talks to him—but Iskander starts fucking him so hard it's all he can do to keep himself from falling off the barrel. His ears are ringing. His pulse is pounding in his throat. By the time Iskander comes, something liquid and warm is buzzing under Izzy's skin.
Iskander moves away and someone else steps up. Oil drizzles over his asshole. A voice—Stump—asks, "This alright, Boss?"
Izzy can't speak; he nods and slurs out something wordless that curls up at the end, pleased. Stump's fingers nudge into him, twisting and stretching and curling, and then his cock, big enough to make him ache. Once inside, Stump is ruthless, relentless, pounding, and it's good—so fucking good. He rubs two fingers over Izzy's cock, sweet circles right over the head. Izzy comes hard, seizing up and curling in on himself, gulping air and still unable to breathe.
He loses track of things after that, exhausted but still flush and floating from being wanted, desired. The next cock goes in his cunt, and the next one, and the next one, all of them, filling him and filling him and spilling inside him. The next one is Red Tom; Izzy recognizes the ring through the head of his cock when it grazes the back of his thigh.
He pats Izzy's side and says, "On your back, Boss." Izzy's too boneless to move, but several hands grab at him and help him turn over. Red Tom removes Izzy's boots and pants and hoists one of his legs over his shoulder. He hisses, "God damn," as he sinks in. "I almost forgot how good your pussy is."
The praise crashes over Izzy like a wave, rolling in and dragging over every part of him. He blinks up at the brilliant, cloudless sky, still brimming with something liquid and warm. Red Tom is hammering into him, dripping sweat onto Izzy's belly and gripping more bruises into Izzy's hips. A shadow cuts across them—Hawkins. He snags a hand in Izzy's hair and rubs his cock over Izzy's lips.
"Open up, Boss."
Izzy's tired; all he can do is get his tongue flat against Hawkins' cock and let Hawkins fuck his mouth. And Hawkins does, fast and a little deeper than is comfortable, given the angle. His hand tightens in Izzy's hair and his cock bumps the back of Izzy's throat. Spit pools in Izzy's mouth. Red Tom comes, and someone steps up and takes his place.
Ivan. He draws the head of his cock up and down Izzy's slit but asks, "Boss?" before pushing in. "Can you take a little more? I'm the last one."
Ivan usually goes last. And after, he takes Izzy down to his cabin and wraps him in a blanket and sits with him until he comes back to himself.
Izzy flushes just thinking about it. He pulls off Hawkins' cock long enough to croak out, "Yeah."