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This will be good, Stede tells himself, fixing his hair on the mirror.
The cashmere sweater felt cozy against his skin, and Ed had invited him to a party - at his place! - and they had been exchanging smiles and even - perhaps - flirting. Was this what it was like to have a crush?
Nothing - nothing - would ruin his night.
Except, maybe, the fact that he had forgotten that Ed lived in a frat house. And the fact that he and Edward apparently had a very different idea of what a party meant.
Stede fixed his shirt neckline, took a deep breath, and went in. Edward was happy enough to see him, and for a second, he thought the night would go according to the plan (the plan being to be Ed’s main focus of attention through the entire thing, of course).
But Ed was too distracted with the beer pong and the keg stands and with Jack Rackham. So yes, maybe Stede was pouting in a corner, but could you blame him?
He tried to hang out in the main area, but he could only handle being ignored so much, so he slipped towards the other rooms of the house. The kitchen was also full, so he ended up going outside, only because if he went upstairs, it would be too hard for Ed to find him later.
It was cold, too cold to be outside when the party was loud and warm and fun inside, but there was someone else in the garden (if you were feeling generous enough to call the place a garden).
Of course. Just Stede’s luck - the only person he disliked more than Jack Rackham (although not by a lot). Israel Hands had a smoke on his hand, and the permanent frown on his face told Stede that he hated the party just as much as he did. Perhaps even more.
He was wearing a coat that was too big for him, and he blew the smoke out with his eyes closed, ignoring the mess inside his house, slightly swaying in place even though there was no wind. Was he drunk?
“Smoking is bad for your lungs,” Stede noted, just to antagonize him.
Izzy opened his eyes to toss him a death stare.
“Edward’s inside.”
“I know that,” Stede insisted, trying to not sound too put out about it, but Izzy caught it, smiled at him as if he was prey. Perhaps he should leave. It wasn’t smart to confront Izzy on a good day. And Izzy didn’t seem to have good days.
“Annoyed that he’s not paying attention to you?”
“I am n-”
“You better get used to it,” Izzy mumbled, his eyes moving to the house, catching a glimpse of Ed holding court inside. It took all of Stede’s self control to not do the same. He would not let Israel win this round.
“What- what is that supposed to mean?”
Izzy let his cigarette fall to the floor, stepped on it to put it out and got close to him, disregarding his personal space, lifting his chin up to appear taller.
“It’s supposed to mean that Edward is going to get bored of you. He always does. No matter how pretty and nice you are,” he practically spit the words at him, as if they were insults rather than compliments. Izzy didn’t seem to process what he had just said, and this time, it was Stede smiling at him, catching him in the act.
“Ah, Israel- do you think I’m pretty?”
The smaller man narrowed his eyes, and he seemed to be about to spit on his face for real this time, and perhaps Stede should have a better self preservation instinct than-
He kissed him, taking the momentum to press Izzy against the wall of the shed in their backyard.
Surprisingly, Izzy didn’t bite him, but kissed him back, with a viciousness that could only come from the ugliest flavor of jealousy.
Was he trying to hurt Edward, by kissing his- by kissing Izzy?
Was he hoping they would get caught?
“Trying to hurt Edward, are you?” Izzy murmured, biting down on his lip now, his breath heavy.
“Please,” Stede mocked, even though he had just thought exactly the same thing. He pressed Izzy harder against the wall, his knee sneaking in between his legs. Izzy seemed to melt under his touch, and Stede felt it go directly to his cock. “If I wanted to hurt Edward, I wouldn’t use you.”
Izzy breathed out at that, a surprised little gasp at the jab. He put his hands on Stede’s curls, making a mess of them, tugging them on his hand to tug his head closer.
With no response, he kissed him again, and somewhere between the bites and the grinding, the thoughts of Edward got mixed up - until all he could think about was the heat in his belly and how eager, how unashamed Izzy was through it.
Izzy flicked his pants open with an ease that came from having too many quickies, and had his cock on his hand before he could even process it. He made an appreciative noise from the back of his throat.
“What?”
“Ed said it was big,” Izzy murmured, already stroking him, his hands swift and experienced, and Stede really couldn’t believe that the second man to ever touch his cock was Israel fucking Hands. “Didn’t know how big.”
“You- talk about me?”
“Don’t flatter yourself,” Izzy bit back, and he tried to come up with a response, but Izzy flicked his thumb over his head, pressing his thumb down just slightly before shifting his hand more, so all that came out was a moan. “Ed likes to kiss and tell.”
“And- ah- you?”
Izzy chuckled, but didn’t answer. His hand moving in an easy rhythm, the noise feeling even more obscene in the empty backyard, cold and party forgotten, but neither of them could stop thinking about the man inside, tucked into Jack Rackham’s lap on the couch.
He wrung out an orgasm out of Stede with a cold sort of efficiency, as if it was just another task in his to-do list, his eyes narrowed, watching his reaction through it all, adjusting his pace according to what made Stede gasp and buckle against his fingers.
Stede didn’t swear, and he didn’t call out for Ed, but he couldn’t quite tell what he said when he came.
Izzy looked at his hand with a grimace, as if the cum on it was disgusting, and Stede couldn’t help but imagine it on his face, on his lips, Izzy on his knees in front of him until he wiped that frown of his-
“Pervert,” Izzy mumbled, as if he could tell what he was thinking, and Stede couldn’t help but blush.
“Israel-”
“Shut the fuck up,” he said while cleaning his hands the best he could without getting his clothes dirty.
“But I- we-”
“I said- shut the fuck up.”
Izzy got another cigarette out, apparently unbothered by whatever the hell had just happened between the two of them, as if nothing had even happened.
Stede opened his mouth again, but shut it after a last warning glance from the other man.
He sighed, long and deep.
The Queen Anne boys would be the death of him, he was certain.