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Entry tags:
OFMD FICLET: goodbye
goodbye
Edward/Izzy | adult | ~700 words
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cnr_ofmg, who wanted Izzy begging Ed to fuck him one last time. Originally posted here.
--
"Ed, please."
Ed grunts. He keeps shoving into Izzy's cunt, rough and ragged and artless. Izzy can't see him, not face down like he is, but he doesn't need to. He can picture the hazy look in his eyes, the indifferent line to his mouth.
"Ed."
"This is what you wanted, yeah?" Ed asks, flat. He pulls out, then shoves back in. "My cock in you?"
Izzy swallows a noise. He had wanted it, had come to give the day's report in an open shirt and sleep pants hoping for it, but he hadn't wanted this. He'd wanted what Ed used to give him before Bonnet came along—Ed spreading him out on his back, Ed biting kisses between his mouth and his tits, Ed grinding into his cunt slow and deep, Ed panting and moaning into the curve of his throat, Ed's fingers digging bruises into his waist and hips and thighs.
Instead, he'd ordered Izzy on the bed with narrow eyes and a dull, dead voice. He'd flipped Izzy onto his belly and yanked Izzy's hips up and pushed inside before Izzy was really wet enough to take him.
"Please."
Ed thrusts and thrusts and thrusts, hips jerking, erratic and rhythmless, angled all wrong. Izzy swallows another noise; there's a faint ache in his cunt and a sour taste at the back of his throat. He can't come like this. He doubts Ed can come like this. Ed's isn't even here, not really. He's barely breathing. His hands are loose at Izzy's waist, like he doesn't give a shit if Izzy stays or goes.
"Ed."
"You wanted this."
"Ed, please."
"Shut up."
Izzy clenches his hands into fists and presses his forehead to the bed. What he'd wanted was one more night with the man he's loved for nearly thirty years. He knows about Bonnet's convenient and highly improbable death; it was the only story on every tongue the last time they made port. To Izzy, it tastes and smells like a fuckery, which means Bonnet will likely be back aboard this ship within the week.
He means to leave before that happens—before Ed orders him off the ship to please Bonnet. Abandoning Ed already feels like a stone in his gut. If Ed forced him to go, he wouldn't survive it. Just thinking about it rips a sob from Izzy's throat.
Ed snaps, "Shut up," again and starts fucking Izzy in earnest. Not, Izzy thinks, because he cares at all about getting off, but because he wants it to be over. Izzy shifts under him, tying to find a better angle, but Ed snarls at him and snaps his hips—in, in, in. "You wanted this. Take what I give you or get the fuck out."
Izzy sucks in a breath. "Ed—fuck, Ed."
Another snarl. Ed snaps his hips—harder, harder. He moves a hand up to the back of Izzy's neck and shoves his face into the bedding.
"Touch yourself. Hurry up."
It's nearly impossible with his shoulders flat on the bed, but somehow he fumbles a hand down to his cunt. He's wetter now than he was earlier, although not enough to stop his cock from aching as he rubs at it. The pressure at the back of his neck increases, like Ed is betting whether he can snap it before Izzy comes. Izzy draws circles over his cock and strains toward the bare flicker of heat in his gut. When it finally happens, it shoots straight through him. His thighs tense and his cunt clenches but he hardly feels it.
Ed pulls out of him almost immediately. Still hard, he climbs off Izzy and rolls onto his side, showing Izzy his back. Izzy bites down on the impulse to reach out to him and touch his shoulder or stroke his hair, to keep him content. Ed doesn't want that from him now, and Izzy's not sure he even knows how to do it anymore.
Quietly, Izzy gets off the bed and puts on his clothes. He tucks his boots under his arm instead of putting them on his feet. Ed is crying again, his hitched breaths loud in the silence. He'll be asleep soon. Izzy walks to the door without a word.
He's been packed since he heard about Bonnet's "death." He might as well leave tonight.
Edward/Izzy | adult | ~700 words
For
--
"Ed, please."
Ed grunts. He keeps shoving into Izzy's cunt, rough and ragged and artless. Izzy can't see him, not face down like he is, but he doesn't need to. He can picture the hazy look in his eyes, the indifferent line to his mouth.
"Ed."
"This is what you wanted, yeah?" Ed asks, flat. He pulls out, then shoves back in. "My cock in you?"
Izzy swallows a noise. He had wanted it, had come to give the day's report in an open shirt and sleep pants hoping for it, but he hadn't wanted this. He'd wanted what Ed used to give him before Bonnet came along—Ed spreading him out on his back, Ed biting kisses between his mouth and his tits, Ed grinding into his cunt slow and deep, Ed panting and moaning into the curve of his throat, Ed's fingers digging bruises into his waist and hips and thighs.
Instead, he'd ordered Izzy on the bed with narrow eyes and a dull, dead voice. He'd flipped Izzy onto his belly and yanked Izzy's hips up and pushed inside before Izzy was really wet enough to take him.
"Please."
Ed thrusts and thrusts and thrusts, hips jerking, erratic and rhythmless, angled all wrong. Izzy swallows another noise; there's a faint ache in his cunt and a sour taste at the back of his throat. He can't come like this. He doubts Ed can come like this. Ed's isn't even here, not really. He's barely breathing. His hands are loose at Izzy's waist, like he doesn't give a shit if Izzy stays or goes.
"Ed."
"You wanted this."
"Ed, please."
"Shut up."
Izzy clenches his hands into fists and presses his forehead to the bed. What he'd wanted was one more night with the man he's loved for nearly thirty years. He knows about Bonnet's convenient and highly improbable death; it was the only story on every tongue the last time they made port. To Izzy, it tastes and smells like a fuckery, which means Bonnet will likely be back aboard this ship within the week.
He means to leave before that happens—before Ed orders him off the ship to please Bonnet. Abandoning Ed already feels like a stone in his gut. If Ed forced him to go, he wouldn't survive it. Just thinking about it rips a sob from Izzy's throat.
Ed snaps, "Shut up," again and starts fucking Izzy in earnest. Not, Izzy thinks, because he cares at all about getting off, but because he wants it to be over. Izzy shifts under him, tying to find a better angle, but Ed snarls at him and snaps his hips—in, in, in. "You wanted this. Take what I give you or get the fuck out."
Izzy sucks in a breath. "Ed—fuck, Ed."
Another snarl. Ed snaps his hips—harder, harder. He moves a hand up to the back of Izzy's neck and shoves his face into the bedding.
"Touch yourself. Hurry up."
It's nearly impossible with his shoulders flat on the bed, but somehow he fumbles a hand down to his cunt. He's wetter now than he was earlier, although not enough to stop his cock from aching as he rubs at it. The pressure at the back of his neck increases, like Ed is betting whether he can snap it before Izzy comes. Izzy draws circles over his cock and strains toward the bare flicker of heat in his gut. When it finally happens, it shoots straight through him. His thighs tense and his cunt clenches but he hardly feels it.
Ed pulls out of him almost immediately. Still hard, he climbs off Izzy and rolls onto his side, showing Izzy his back. Izzy bites down on the impulse to reach out to him and touch his shoulder or stroke his hair, to keep him content. Ed doesn't want that from him now, and Izzy's not sure he even knows how to do it anymore.
Quietly, Izzy gets off the bed and puts on his clothes. He tucks his boots under his arm instead of putting them on his feet. Ed is crying again, his hitched breaths loud in the silence. He'll be asleep soon. Izzy walks to the door without a word.
He's been packed since he heard about Bonnet's "death." He might as well leave tonight.