Chapter Text
Izzy hasn’t been this excited to get home in a very long time.
Elizabeth is at work—she’s been taking on less and less late shifts recently, but occasionally, she can’t dodge them—and Ed has been home all afternoon, either because he didn’t have school today or because he skipped; Izzy is never entirely sure of it. Izzy’s own work day has been nothing short of hellish so far, and between a client who simply didn’t show up for his appointment, two horribly annoying walk-ins, and the fact that he now has to man the front desk like some sort of intern, he’s fucking ready to be done and go home.
Like Ed sniffed his frustration out, Izzy’s phone pings twice in quick succession.
At least the fucking shop is quiet enough for him to check the messages.
[3:22] hey dad
[3:22] how was your daaaaay x
It almost sounds like he has innocent intentions, for once, but Izzy doesn’t trust it. Though maybe, after last week’s conversation, he’s just trying to be more attentive. His words still haunt Izzy. Ed loves him. He should’ve told Ed to shut up the moment he brought the subject up, but instead, he was fucking honest with himself and Ed for one unguarded moment, and now the boy knows about Izzy’s feelings, too.
Maybe Ed really is just curious.
[3:24] Don’t get me started.
Izzy does get himself started, though, and he ends up typing out a long list of his many grievances of the day. One client walks in as he types, but Izzy shoots her such a withering glare that she doesn’t attempt to talk to him.
Edward’s response only takes a couple of seconds after Izzy sends his message.
[3:27] sounds stressful izzy
[3:27] need stress balls?
Attached to the message is a picture—Ed’s cupping his little tits in his hands, the golden bars through his nipples catching the light, his mouth open as if in a moan. Izzy’s prick perks up like a well-trained dog jumping at a command, and he instinctively clicks the picture to zoom in before he remembers himself.
He’s still at work. Fuck.
He slams his phone face down on the counter. Silently, he hopes he didn’t crack the fucking screen, even though it would serve him right if he did. He grumbles and waves the poor client still hovering by the door over, accepts her down payment, and waits for her to piss off. It takes him a few seconds and a few looks over his shoulder until he’s calmed down enough to pick his phone up again.
Ed’s tits are still glaring at him when he unlocks the screen. He’s roughly grabbing at himself like they really are stress balls, and the white bedsheet he’s lying on makes his brown skin glow beautifully—
Izzy pauses. White sheets? Last he checked, Ed’s bedsheets were a deep plum colour.
[3:32] Are you in my fucking bed?
Ed’s reply comes swiftly.
[3:33] yup
[3:33] so comfy here… smells like you, too
[3:33] plus the colour of the sheets suits me i think x
He’s attached another picture to that last message, this one showing his entire body from the neck down. He’s sprawled out on Izzy’s side of the bed. His legs are spread and the hand not holding the camera is suggestively curled over his cunt, half hiding and half teasing at himself.
Izzy’s cock throbs. He wishes he was home already to kneel between Ed’s legs. His phone pings again.
[3:35] spent all day here playing with myself. wanna see?
Of fucking course Izzy does.
[3:36] I’m still at work.
And of fucking course, Ed could not give less of a shit.
[3:36] thats not a no x
Izzy tries his best to angle his phone away from any potential prying eyes as the fucking video Edward sends slowly loads. He can’t exactly leave the desk right now—he’s the only one in the lobby, and Wee John doesn’t want clients to walk into an empty room when they arrive—but he fucking itches to disappear to the bathroom and jerk off to whatever Ed sent him. God knows he’d need it.
He looks around, nervous, like a schoolboy trying to pilfer a candy bar. The lobby is still empty, and the buzz of tattoo machines from the studios indicates that his colleagues aren’t about to run in on him, either.
Fuck it, Izzy decides and opens the video. On his phone screen, Ed is stretched out on his back just as he was in the photo. Two fingers are crammed into his cunt, and he goes to town on his cock with a sleek vibrator that Izzy has never seen before, his spine arching as he moans softly.
[3:38] You’re beautiful.
[3:38] New toy?
Izzy’s face reddens as the replies come in.
[3:39] kinda. found it in mum’s nightstand
[3:39] miles better than my cheap shitty one
Horribly, this knowledge only renders the video more arousing to Izzy. Still, he knows he has to scold Ed for it.
[3:41] Edward, you can’t do that. Fucking put it back.
He can hear Ed’s eye roll in the reply that follows.
[3:42] ur so fuckign boring iz. i’ll put it back but u gotta wash it before
[3:42] youll do that for me wont you
This would be a great occasion to teach the boy some responsibility, but Izzy knows it’s not going to get done if he doesn’t take care of it. Still, he refuses to admit to that in writing and instead watches the rest of the video in silence. Ed’s chest is rising and falling fast, and Izzy wishes he was whatever blessed object Ed propped his phone on between his legs—or better yet, he wishes he was Elizabeth’s vibrator, smushed right against Ed’s cock.
In the end, he wishes he was Ed’s phone because Ed tenses up and then fucking squirts around his fingers, some of it striking the device. Izzy’s cock throbs. He might be able to accomplish that if he fucks Ed’s arse, maybe. He’s having a hard time justifying it to himself, but he has to pacify Ed somehow, and if it has to be by fucking the kid’s arse, then that’s what he’ll do. His body sure isn’t fucking unsettled by the idea, and he’s already raring to go. Fuck.
[3:45] Now you made another mess to clean.
[3:45] Your actions will have consequences, Eddie.
[3:46] what are u gonna do, fuck me into good behavior?
[3:46] If that’s what it takes.
[3:47] lol right… try not to jerk off at work old man, want u to save that load for me xo
It reads like a farewell, which is just as well because Izzy should stop sexting his stepson on company time anyway, but Izzy still feels dim disappointment as his thumbs hover over the keyboard.
[3:48] It’s yours.
With a low groan, Izzy plants his phone down before his head follows it onto the desk.
It’s going to be a long shift.
By the time Izzy is off, he strides with such purpose that his footfalls ought to leave fucking holes in the porch.
He all but rips his bike helmet off and throws his keys in the basket, and it’s with fervor that he shoves his boots off his feet and loses his jacket in the living room. Usually, he’d take the time to stow them away in their proper spots, but today, he’s too pent up to waste time on things as trivial as finding a coat hanger. He weaves around the house quickly, whipping left from the living room into the hallway and speeding to its end.
God.
Edward is still in his bed.
Lazing around, his gaze glued to his phone, but he perks up when Izzy makes his presence known with a grunt.
“Iz,” Ed says, his voice so full of fondness that Izzy feels dizzy and distrustful. “Long day, yeah?”
“It hardly got any better. My fucking back feels like it’s been used as a trampoline at a child’s birthday party.” Izzy scrubs a hand over his face, but he peeks through his fingers when he hears the bed creak and finds Ed sitting up with a little bottle of oil in his hand. Fuck. He must have prepped himself.
“Let me rub it better for you?” he offers, and that entirely wrongfoots Izzy. Here he is, being fucking perverted, but Edward intends to massage him. He can’t fault himself for it too much; Ed fingering his arse open feels much more likely than whatever reality into which Izzy’s fallen.
“Sure,” Izzy agrees, putting more reluctance in his voice than he feels as he drops his bag at the end of the bed and starts undressing. Edward, obnoxious as he is, whistles as Izzy’s shirt comes off, and the eye roll doesn’t ward him off because he does it again when Izzy’s underwear joins the fallen. He picks them up and folds them, placing them at the end of the bed for whenever Ed’s done with his weird, out-of-character act of service. Izzy still doesn’t trust it.
There’s a visible wet spot where Edward gushed on the bedding. Izzy wants to put the sheets in his fucking mouth.
“C’mon, lie down,” Ed says innocently, his usual impatient self, and pats the bed.
“If you felt like I did, you’d move slow too,” Izzy grumbles, but he makes his way there anyhow, lying prone right next to the fucking damp patch even though it makes him feel exposed.
It only heightens his vulnerability when Ed straddles his legs—“so I can get the angle right,” he explains when Izzy glares at him.
To Ed’s credit, the position pays back in spades—even if Izzy has to deal with a half-chub the whole time, Ed kneads and pushes tension out of his back, untangling knots with deft fingers, and it feels fucking incredible. Izzy groans several times in pleasure.
The oil’s scent is something like roses—likely another one of Elizabeth’s things Ed has decided to borrow today—and it soothes Izzy’s nerves.
It does this so much that Izzy drops his guard, but just as he does, Ed’s hands begin their journey further down, his fingers suspiciously splayed over Izzy’s arsecheeks while his thumbs rub his tailbone. Izzy’s heart picks up. “Edward, that’s hardly my fucking back.”
“It’s supposed to go this far down,” Ed says with an artificial calm that sets Izzy’s hair on end. He drizzles more oil over the base of Izzy’s spine, and gravity coaxes it down to trickle between his arsecheeks, over his hole, and onto his balls before making more of a mess of the sheets. His head is foggy from the massage, but every touch rips through the mist, sharp and strong like the scent of spearmint and piercing Izzy’s senses with gentle rolls and grinds of palms.
Suddenly, one of Ed’s hands disappears from the massage, and before Izzy can turn and investigate its absence, he realizes its itinerary; a well-slicked finger prods at his well-slicked hole.
Fuck. Ed seems to have a wildly different idea of anal sex than him.
“Edward, I’ve never—” he begins, but a long groan cuts him off as Ed advances anyhow, his finger wriggling inside.
“Really?” Ed asks, sounding genuinely surprised. Izzy doesn’t manage more of a response than a whimper. “I mean, you are exuding top energy, but I figured someone would’ve fucked you at some point. Like, you like having your balls pinched, so… not that much of a stretch.”
“No, fuck, fuck,” Izzy says, the words devolving into another high sound of pain and pleasure. “Doesn’t have anything to do with that.”
Ed grunts noncommittally. “I guess. First time for everything, huh?”
“I suppose,” Izzy huffs. Ed’s not asking, but he assumes he could tell the boy to stop if he needed to. Izzy’s not sure he wants him to stop, which surprises him.
“Always glad to show you new stuff at your advanced age,” Ed teases, his finger slowly sliding deeper. “How’s it feel?”
“Like I’ve got a fucking finger up my arse—Eddie—”
“Shit, that means I’m not doing it right.” Ed sounds like he’s trying to hide his disappointment, but he quickly catches himself. “I read up on this, you know. Loads of great tutorials on how to give someone a prostate massage if you know where to look.”
Izzy scoffs. “I doubt you can learn that sort of thing from a tutorial without some hands-on experience.”
“Hands on, huh?”
Ed curls his finger, and Izzy shouts. Electricity courses through his veins at a voltage he never knew before, and his hips jerk backwards, chasing the sensation. His cock rubs against the mattress, and briefly, Izzy sees stars behind his closed eyelids.
“Yeah, that’s it,” Ed says. “You sound like I’m doing something right.”
“Please,” Izzy says before he can even think about it. “Don’t stop, Eddie.” His face feels hot, his cheeks sting like he’s got a fucking sunburn, and his skin is probably red enough to match the sensation. He never thought it would feel like this, and after thirty-odd years of digging his heels into the ground and telling everyone he doesn’t bottom, he feels somewhat stupid for it. It’s fucking embarrassing how much he wants this.
“Mm, that’s what I thought,” Ed says. His tone is nonchalant, but as he shifts around on top of Izzy’s thighs, Izzy can feel his wet cunt gliding against the back of his leg. Of fucking course he’s getting off on this. “What d’you say? Want another finger, Dad?”
Izzy moans, less because of Ed’s suggestion and more because that’s just what he does whenever the boy calls him Dad. He ought to be ashamed of himself—more than he already is, much of the time—but he can’t fucking help it. A part of his rotten, perverted mind wants Ed to be his entirely. It’s sick, disgusting, yet his prick lurches every time Ed brings it up.
This train of thought derails entirely when Ed, apparently interpreting his noise as an affirmative, pushes a second finger in alongside the first. The stretch of it stings, and while the sensation is alien, it’s not altogether unpleasant.
“Oh, fuck, this is great,” Ed announces, his cunt sliding over Izzy’s thigh quicker now. “You’re so fucking… stretched. Open and all. Jesus Christ.”
“Yeah, I fucking feel it,” Izzy grits out, sweat beading on his forehead from how hot this has him. He clenches his fists in the sheets and tilts his hips to try welcoming more of Ed, and Ed must receive the message because he hammers his fingers in harder, stroking that same spot.
“Should buy a strap so I can fuck you properly,” Ed says, and the concept shoves Izzy unwillingly closer to his orgasm, his cock rustling and grinding against the wet sheets. Ed slides a hand under Izzy, grips him hard, and fists him fast. “Stuff you full of my cock, yeah?”
“Yeah, fuck, Ed—” Izzy arches and leans ferociously into the feeling of it until it drives him over the edge, and he splatters his release into Ed’s hand. Ed groans and humps his leg fervently, wringing him dry. He tugs his hand out from under Izzy when Izzy’s fully spent.
Izzy cranes his head around to blearily stare up at Ed, turning just in time to watch Ed curl his tongue around his fingers, licking Izzy’s come from every digit and not wasting a drop. He grunts as his cock twitches one final time at the sight. Ed smiles. “Said this load was for me.”
Pathetically, aimlessly, Izzy’s prick twitches again, even though he knows he’s not going to get hard again any time soon. Most, if not all of his loads have been Ed’s ever since Elizabeth first introduced him to her son—even on the one occasion he actually fucked his wife, he thought of Ed when he came. Ed would love to hear this, Izzy is pretty sure, but he doesn’t want the boy to get too cocky.
With a groan, Ed lifts himself off Izzy’s thigh only to flop back down on the mattress next to him. He grimaces. “Ew. Wet.”
“Hm,” Izzy hums, still lying prone with his face turned to Ed. “And whose fault is that?”
Ed sticks his tongue out at him. “If you’d been home, you could’ve reminded me to put a towel down or something.”
Izzy stares blankly at Ed before huffing out a dry laugh. “Should’ve known you’d find a way to blame me for your mess.”
“Always do.” Ed smiles so sweetly that Izzy can’t summon up any annoyance. “You’ll have to change the sheets before Mum gets home.”
“Yeah.” Izzy rolls to his side to allow himself a better view of Ed without having to twist his neck into an uncomfortable angle. “Or you could do it.”
“Mm. Don’t think I will.”
“Course you won’t.”
Izzy reaches out to wrap a hand around Ed’s waist, and Ed curls up against his side. Silence falls as they breathe each other’s air.
After what could have been seconds or an hour, Ed stirs again. “There’s something else I wanna try.”
“What is it, treasure?”
Ed’s voice is quieter when he replies. “D’you know what rimming is?”
Izzy pauses. It takes him a moment to process the words, and as they seep into his consciousness, he’s almost sure he misunderstood—but then, Ed’s always good for a surprise. If he managed to find a tutorial on prostate massages online, it’s not too far-fetched for him to read up on eating arse as well. Izzy threads his fingers into Ed’s hair. “Mm. Did plenty of that in my time.”
Ed turns around, pulling up a brow. “Really? That why you’re so good at eating me out?”
Izzy shrugs. “I’m sure it helps.”
“I’m sure it does.” Ed settles again, nuzzling into Izzy’s touch like an overgrown kitten. It doesn’t take long for him to turn around once again. “What, d’you mean, did plenty of that? Like, eating someone else’s ass or getting yours eaten?”
Izzy tugs Ed closer, pressing him against his chest. “The former.”
In a strange, scattered way, the admission stings. Giving rather than taking used to be a point of pride for him, and he can’t shake the feeling that he somehow betrayed himself by letting Ed fuck him. Still, he’s still floating in the afterglow of a fucking intense orgasm, so really, what’s the point of beating himself up? Maybe he’s been missing out all these years. Maybe all he ever does with Ed is give, and maybe now he has the chance to finally take what that’s earned him.
If anyone deserves everything Izzy has to give, it would be Edward, anyway. He buries his face in Ed’s hair and breathes his scent. “First time I ever let anyone finger my arse, you know.”
“That’s actually insane.” Ed sounds both surprised and delighted. “I mean, you always struck me as, like, more of a toppy type, but never?”
“Nope.” Izzy swallows, silently waiting for ridicule that never comes; Ed only hums in neutral acknowledgment. “As you said. First time for everything.”
“Yeah.” Ed turns back around to regard him. “Glad I can still show you new things at your old age.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Izzy says, but there’s no heat to it.
Ed presses a kiss to the tip of his nose. “Never.”
Izzy pulls him close again. “I know. Thank fuck for that.”