Chapter Text
As the dark grey clouds gathered on the horizon, Izzy figured that bringing the big umbrella had been the correct choice. He swore he could feel the coming rain in the air. It was usually warm and dry in San Francisco—especially during summer—but it looked as though this evening would be an exception.
The little shop bell jingled delightfully as Izzy pushed the ornate door open and stepped inside the bakery. A sweet sugary smell and warm air greeted him. His Oxford shoes clicked satisfyingly against the tile floor as he stepped up to the counter.
"Ah, Mr Hands," the young girl behind the counter exclaimed cheerily as he approached. She was wearing a pristine apron and cute braids. The only thing that belied the polished and clean appearance of the shop was the faint smell of cigarette smoke coming from the back. "What can I get you today, sir?"
Izzy gave her a polite little smile. He would never tire of hearing that title directed at him.
He'd barely had time to hum in contemplation, adjusting his glasses to gaze across the myriad goods in the display counters, when the source of the smoke smell wandered out.
The pastry chef cleaned his hands with a cloth as he left the back room. His dark afro was halfway shoved into a floppy white hat resembling a deflated mushroom. As usual, a slightly bent cigarette dangled from his lips as he spoke. The man had earned the nickname Roach after Izzy's firm helped him win a case in court. A woman had attempted to sue the bakery. It was a long story.
"Izzy," Roach greeted with a smirk. "All alone today? What did you do with the ol' wife?"
Izzy decided to believe the joke was made in good faith and let the corners of his mouth quirk upwards. "Stede's at Jackie's," he murmured. He raised the umbrella and explained, "I'm collecting him. Figured I'd bring him a treat." He gestured towards the selection on display. "Do you have a recommendation?" Usually, Stede would pick, as he insisted on coming to Roach's bakery often. It was his very favourite.
According to Stede, the odd pastry chef's innovative experiments were 'to die for'. Once, Stede had talked the man into making some kind of cake that required a ridiculous number of oranges. Izzy had yet to hear the end of that. Since Izzy had no knowledge whatsoever when it came to baked goods, it was best to leave the choice to the professional.
"Mm," Roach hummed, his face taking on a more serious expression. "Here." He took the cigarette out of his mouth and gestured with it to the cashier. "Those. One of each." As the girl busied herself with picking out colourful little baked goods with tongs, the chef took another drag of his cigarette and turned back to Izzy. "Can I do you for a sandwich?"
Izzy considered it. After all, they still didn't serve food at Jackie's. "That'd be good, thank you."
He watched Roach wrap up a sandwich for him in neat brown paper, cigarette dangling dangerously. Izzy wondered how much of the man's ashes he'd already eaten over the months. It was not a significant amount, but it wasn't none either.
The young girl rang him up, Izzy tipped his head politely at the two and went on his way.
The day was pleasant with a cool breeze rolling through, the chill hinting at the coming rain. Cable car bells dinged as they rumbled past on their tracks. Izzy usually didn't ride them as he enjoyed a good walk down the street in solitude. He and Stede had considered possibly purchasing a car at some point to allow them a bit more freedom. They didn't earn much but cars had gotten increasingly affordable over the last few years.
When he got closer to his destination, he saw one or two faces he recognised among the crowd and nodded at them in greeting but didn't speak. Jackie's speakeasy was located in the quite busy northeast part of town. Izzy had never been a people person but despite this, he felt his shoulders relax as the hustle and bustle surrounded him. Every other building contained a club and the fronts were covered in gaudy lightbox signage. It was where he felt at home—in more ways than one.
It reminded him of the life he'd left behind in Chicago. Sometimes he missed the excitement and adrenaline, but he didn't miss the violence, the uncertainty, or the fear. Unseen, in his left shoe, he reflexively clenched his four remaining toes.
He walked up the steps of Jackie's tobacconist and newsagent shop, squeezed in between a noisy club and a fancy dress shop—both also owned by Jackie. The shop only consisted of a small front room with two windows, some shelves, and a counter. It had a quaint air about it, almost cosy.
"Hey, boss!" said the balding man behind the counter with a big cheery smile.
"Fang," Izzy greeted curtly and walked around the counter. He swore as he almost tripped over the shaggy dog that snuck around the corner and between his legs, as he tried not to drop his umbrella and bakery bag. Fang kept him from falling as he caught Izzy's smaller frame in his arms.
Righting himself and pushing his glasses back in place, Izzy cursed some more and complained that the overly friendly mutt was an utterly useless guard dog. Meanwhile, Fang rambled apologies, but neither was truly listening to the other.
Instead, Izzy pushed through the green doors behind the counter, entering the real establishment hidden beyond. In Izzy's humble opinion, Jackie's was simultaneously the best and worst speakeasy in town. He'd only been to a handful in San Francisco, but he still wagered his judgement was sound.
The windowless space was small and cramped yet felt intimate, the dim lights casting a dreamlike sheen through the cigarette smoke. Jackie's was where Izzy had found his new life and his people. He belonged there: among the tables hosting every outcast from every layer of society. It didn't matter if you were a banker, a factory worker, a crook, or a vagrant. If you'd been invited to Jackie's, you belonged.
Izzy belonged.
The small stage was empty except for the small band playing in the corner that consisted of a few of Jackie's partners—her "husbands", as she called them—who were keeping the atmosphere lively before the performances started.
Cutting across the floor and between the tables, Izzy saw Jackie herself sitting in her usual dark corner. With her white tuxedo and the smoke slowly rising from her cigar, she looked like some kind of phantom. Their eyes met briefly over the top of the heads of the patrons. Jackie gave a slight nod, which Izzy interpreted as permission to continue on his way. Even though he had been coming and going largely as he pleased for years, it was a subtle reminder that it was entirely at her pleasure. She liked him knowing that.
At the back of the room, Izzy pushed another door open and made his way deeper still into the building. As far as he knew, Jackie and her associates owned the entire block, though he had no idea what she used most of it for.
Closing the door behind him instantly muffled the rowdy noise from the main floor. The voice he could hear then had Izzy's shoulders relaxing. He hadn't realised he was tense, but he usually was after a workday. Office work did that to you.
He couldn't make out individual words yet, but it didn't matter. He'd know that high-pitched snarky tone anywhere. As Izzy made his way closer, he started to be able to make sense of the conversation.
"—not about being grateful."
"He's here basically every night, mate," said a deeper voice, one Izzy was equally fond of and familiar with.
"So then he should know why I took the name 'Lady Viola'."
Edward didn't answer but rolled his eyes. He'd heard Stede complain about people not understanding the name he'd taken as a female impersonator about a million times before. His eyes landed on Izzy the moment he stepped into the dressing room. Edward instantly lit up like the sun but stayed quiet and gave him a dainty wave with his black painted nails.
In the small dressing room, there were two wooden makeup vanities with matching mirrors. The two men were sitting at their own spots, their spaces perfectly reflecting their personalities.
Edward's vanity was messy, filled with little jars, bottles, boxes, and makeup paraphernalia. There was all manner of trinkets and baubles scattered around that had taken his fancy. Over the corner of the mirror hung a wig and a few weaves in black and purple. Most of Edward's things were black or purple. It was clear he'd never grow out of that style once he found it, even after he started experimenting with his gender expression.
Next to Edward's decorated chaos, Stede's vanity looked positively spartan. He had his own fair share of items scattered around his space but in a far more manageable way. The table top could be cleared and cleaned in minutes, Izzy knew. He'd done it before.
Currently, Stede had his red makeup set out to match his red dressing gown. It was a ridiculously dramatic piece with a big fluffy collar and sleeves. A light dusting of chest hair peeked out between the loose folds of the shiny fabric. He was as gorgeous as always.
Stede—who was entirely focused on his reflection in the mirror as he applied his makeup—continued arguing as if Edward was still engaged. As he did, Izzy tried to be as quiet as possible, taking his coat and jacket off. "Yes, violas and pansies look very similar, but that's not the point. I still would have rejected the gift had they been proper wild pansies. I don't care! That man is so terribly hamfisted. He may as well have brought a fiddle and hit me over the head with it."
Edward groaned loudly, throwing his head back dramatically. "Aw, come on, V! Give the man a break. He was just trying to butter you up a bit."
Stede put down the mascara and picked up his cigarette holder to turn to Ed and gesture at him with it. "I am not obligated to humour every hump who drew breath!"
As he took a draw from his cigarette, he seemed to notice that Edward's little smirk was aimed elsewhere in the room. Stede turned on his stool and seemed to light up from within.
"Israel!" he exclaimed with genuine affection and delight.
Izzy could have burst at the seams at the sight before him. Smoke billowed gently from between Stede's smiling red-painted lips. His eyes sparkled along with his jewellery in the vanity's light. He was a beauty the likes you only ever saw printed in black and white, but brought to life in startling technicolour.
All of these feelings only made themselves known as a small shy smile on Izzy's lips. "I bought you something," he said.
"Oh, honey-butter, you shouldn't have!" Stede exclaimed eagerly, in a manner that showed he definitely thought Izzy should have and that he was entirely delighted. As polite as Stede could pretend to be, he did adore being pampered and spoiled.
Izzy rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The air was warm and stuffy in the back rooms to keep the performers comfortable as they changed. "Heard on the radio it was going to rain," he explained, picking up the bag from the bakery. "Figured I'd come pick you up and swung by Roach's."
"Oh, darling," Stede cooed. "C'mere." He held his arms out for Izzy, beckoning him closer. Usually, Izzy would move easily into Stede's waiting hands. He'd grown used to Stede always fixing his tie, tucking hair behind his ears, caressing his cheeks, or even doing something as cliché as holding hands with him. Touch was given with Stede.
Yet, Izzy hesitated for a moment, bag in hand.
The problem was that Stede looked perfect—too perfect. A flawless, beautiful woman the likes of which Izzy was not worthy. Sure, he was still Stede, Izzy's partner of almost two years, but he was Lady Viola too.
Viola was something different. She was ethereal and untouchable, belonging to the entire world and no one at all. She was confident and independent. Some would call her cheeky and occasionally downright mean, quick-witted with a tongue like a razor blade.
Izzy felt strange about touching her. It wasn't always easy to tell where Stede ended and Viola began. He'd only hesitated for a second, but it was enough for Stede to notice.
Stede's eyes seemed to soften momentarily, perhaps in understanding. "Oh, come here, you," he huffed, pulling Izzy closer by hooking a finger into the waist of his trousers. "Kiss me."
The kind imploring eyes looking up at Izzy were definitely Stede's, which had him relaxing. Still, he argued, quiet voice rasping out, "I don't want to ruin your lipstick," which was true.
Dismissing his worries entirely, Stede grabbed Izzy by the tie as if it were a leash and pulled him down. Izzy bent willingly, leaning into the floral scent of Stede's perfume and fragrant hair, blended with the smooth dark smoke underneath. As he did, his eyes focused on Stede's lips. They were pretty—thin with a precise application of ruby red lipstick. Izzy glanced up to notice the glitter on Stede's cheeks before his face became too blurry to focus on.
Their lips met gently in a chaste kiss, Stede only pressing softly against Izzy's lips and moustache. It didn't matter how many times he got to touch this man, or that they'd been together for a few years already, the first physical contact was always a bit of a thrill.
Art by Jick [Twitter] [Instagram]
Stede released him and allowed Izzy to move back just enough to look at him again. There was a small smirk on Stede's face as he reached up to rub his thumb over Izzy's bottom lip. Presumably, he'd left some lipstick behind, even though the lines of Stede's lipstick still looked perfect to Izzy.
"Oh, get a room, turtle doves," Edward groaned in the background. Despite the complaint, his voice sounded perfectly fond, and when Izzy shot him a dirty look, Edward was smiling widely at them. "I never should have introduced you two," Edward continued, joy still plastered all over his face. "I didn't think you'd turn Iz into such a desperate puppy."
Stede glanced over his shoulder at Edward. "You're just jealous because you never brought out his romantic side."
Izzy felt himself blush and grumbled, barely loud enough to be heard over Edward's ringing laughter. "Izzy!? A romantic!?" Edward looked as though he might cry from laughing. Izzy felt an uncharacteristic hot wash of shame.
When Stede turned away to glare disapprovingly at a laughing Edward, Izzy glanced down at his partner. He could possibly be accused of acting a bit like a puppy, but he certainly wasn't a romantic. He tried, but for many different reasons, he'd never been in a proper relationship before he met Stede, and still had no idea how to woo a partner. Why would Stede say something like that?
"Oh, hush, you." Stede swatted the air in Edward's general direction. "Don't be mean to the boy." Izzy opened his mouth to complain that he was, in fact, older than both of them, but instantly stopped when Stede looked up at him with eager adoring eyes. "Now, what did you get me?"
Izzy had almost forgotten the bag he was holding. He baulked for a moment before answering. "I don't know. Roach picked them out."
Stede quickly busied himself with opening the bag and expressing his delight over the pastries. Apparently, the round colourful things were macarons, not to be confused with macaroons. Stede launched into an explanation of the differences and the confusion surrounding the baked goods.
Izzy pulled up a chair and sat down. They had some time to kill before either Stede or Edward needed to be on stage, and he enjoyed Stede's rambling explanations.
He caught Edward's gaze from behind Stede and the man beamed at him. He looked so content.
Edward had absolutely thrived since they'd gotten to San Francisco, met Stede, and this whole performance thing had begun. It was as if air had been blown on the embers of his passion for life and it had reignited into a raging fire, like nothing Izzy had ever seen in him before—not even when they'd been at the top of their game back in Chicago.
They'd once been respected and feared—the ruthless Blackbeard and his lethal "lapdog"—but having left all that behind, now they just wanted happiness.
It felt as though Edward had reached that. He looked free.
Izzy was still working on it.
He wasn't sure exactly what he was aiming for or how to get there. All he knew was that Stede had a part to play in it, so he focused on that.
Izzy only watched Stede—and sometimes Edward—perform. He wasn't too interested in the rest of the show at Jackie's. It wasn't bad, it just wasn't for him.
Edward had been on first. On stage, he was J.J., a person who was not exactly a male or female impersonator but something in between. It all depended on J.J.'s mood and what they were going for on stage that evening. They were a devil at the piano and owned the stage.
Izzy had to admit that Edward was onto something with the combination of a full beard, heavy makeup, and high heels.
If Edward as J.J. was fire and flames, Stede as Viola was rose petals and thorns.
Stede—by his own admission—was not that great at singing or playing instruments, but he excelled at the spoken word. On stage, Viola recited poetry and regaled tales both modern and ancient, with her own brand of reserved but sensual flair.
She engaged with the audience, flirted and teased them. Izzy knew to sit just far back enough that he wasn't easy prey. He knew full well that if he entered a verbal battle with Viola he would lose to her quick wit and confident tongue.
Off stage, he and Stede were more evenly matched and there rarely were any losers in their playful banter. In fact, they tended to end up flirting more often than not, and then putting their tongues to far better use than talking.
Izzy smiled to himself, watching Viola recite a shortened version of The Chaos by Gerard Nolst Trenité, a tongue-twisting poem meant to highlight the irregularities in English pronunciation. Of course, Stede had rewritten it himself and added a few suggestive and raunchy rhymes that had the audience hooting and whistling.
Though they made it look easy, Stede and Edward were usually physically and sometimes emotionally drained after performing. Backstage, Izzy helped Stede clean up enough to be presentable. Edward was already out the door, barely cleaned up.
"Ugh," Stede groaned. "I'm all gross." He'd washed the makeup off but being on stage had left him sweaty.
"You're never gross," Izzy said plainly, helping Stede into his coat.
"That's sweet of you to say…" Though Izzy couldn't see his face while standing behind him, he could tell from his soft voice that Stede was smiling.
"Come on." Izzy grabbed the umbrella. "Let's get home before you get cold."
Walking home through the rain, their shoes clicked on the street, and Stede held a casual monologue about the day he'd had. Between Stede and Edward, they kept Izzy up to date on all the drama at Jackie's, no matter how trivial.
As the rain drummed softly against the big umbrella, a thought struck Izzy. With his arm around Stede's waist and keeping close together under the umbrella, they looked like a proper couple.
Had they ever walked like this before, with Izzy's arm around Stede? They didn't usually touch much in public or in front of others. Now that Izzy thought about it, he guessed that it was because he himself usually only initiated contact in private. Stede was respecting a line Izzy wasn't even aware he'd drawn.
His arm tightened around Stede's waist. Perhaps he should do it more often.
"There's my favourite little girl!"
The shiny grey cat came running through the apartment hallway to greet them. Stede crouched down and the sleek animal perfectly avoided his searching hands, circumventing him entirely and rubbing herself against Izzy's pant leg.
"Wow. She clearly thinks I stink," Stede said dryly, standing up again.
Izzy put the umbrella away and leaned down enough to scratch the purring cat under her chin. "No, she doesn't. She's just playing favourites."
"Because you insist on giving her ham." Stede hung his coat up and started shucking the rest of his clothes off.
Izzy watched not too covertly. "She's a good girl. She deserves it." He turned to the cat, purring up a storm and rubbing herself against his fingers. "Don't you, Moonshine?"
Before Izzy met Stede, he'd found the cat in an alley, fed her, and taken her in on a whim. For a few months, it had been just the two of them in his apartment. He'd named her Moonshine as a joke. Her shiny grey coat reminded him of moonlight, but there was also the obvious prohibition reference. Stede said she was blue but that was ridiculous. She looked silver to Izzy, like a metal blade with a matte finish.
Before Izzy's thoughts could slip in a darker direction, his train of thought was brought to a screeching halt as Stede sauntered by, now entirely nude. He stopped with a hand on the door frame leading to the bathroom, cocking his hip. "You making dinner?" The little smile showed he was entirely aware of what he was doing.
"Mm," Izzy hummed and nodded dumbly.
Stede had donned one of his robes after he came out of the shower. He took every opportunity to slip into his favourite loungewear. Once they'd eaten and the day was winding down, the two of them curled up together on the worn couch. Stede had brought a book from his shelf and settled with his back to Izzy's chest. While he read, he had his reading glasses low on his nose—something he only ever wore in private. Izzy was happy to just lay there, enjoying the quiet. His own glasses lay discarded on the coffee table as he was more comfortable laying down without them. Moonshine lay in her usual spot, on a folded-up blanket now permanently placed atop a dresser.
A window was cracked open, letting cool air into their small living room. The rain continued falling outside and probably would for the entire night, making a soothing noise as it trickled onto the metal window sill outside.
Their place was small and the furniture was old, but in good condition. When Stede had moved in he'd spruced Izzy's lifeless place up with some framed pictures and potted plants he cared for religiously. Over the small mantelpiece, there was an incredibly healthy fern next to a portrait photograph of a younger Stede in navy uniform, his expression austere and wooden. Why he kept it after getting thrown out, Izzy would never understand. Things were so very different now.
Stede's silky curls were extra soft right after a soak in the bath and smelled like flowers. Izzy let his fingers play absentmindedly with the locks, smoothing them out and letting them bounce back. Stede was soft and warm in so many ways.
The moment was beautiful. The only sound that broke through the white noise of rain outside was the occasional turning of a page.
Izzy's mind was a dangerous place in the quiet. It would bend backwards and twist itself up in knots if he let it. At the moment, he was thinking about what Stede had said before about him being a romantic.
They rarely—if ever—did what Izzy would consider normal romantic relationship activities.
He had never gotten Stede flowers or chocolates. Stede already had plenty of plants that he dutifully cared for at the apartment and buying treats from Roach was a part of their normal routine. They had never held hands while walking down the beach or kissed as the sun set. Izzy couldn't imagine even attempting to write a letter or poem, let alone showing it to someone as well-read as Stede.
They did go out together on occasion but Izzy could hardly consider those dates, let alone romantic. They would go on shopping trips, drink and laugh with Edward at a bar, or get out of the city to experience some nature every once in a while. Hiking through a park and stopping to let Stede explain what makes the monarch butterfly he just found so special was hardly romantic.
Perhaps he should have offered Stede his coat earlier in the rain. Would he have appreciated such a gesture? If Stede saw him as a romantic, Izzy wanted to live up to that idea. It seemed like something Stede might want. After all, he adored old traditional tales involving romance, drama, and happily ever afters.
Stede stirred on top of him and it was only then that Izzy realised that he hadn't heard a page turn in quite a while. Also, he'd apparently been slowly and gently rubbing his hand over Stede's hip, not even thinking about it. He stopped.
Putting the book and glasses safely on the coffee table, Stede shuffled and turned onto his front on top of Izzy. He lay there for a second or two, just looking. It was warm in between them and this position seemed to stir things in both of them.
"Where did you go?" Stede asked softly, pretty dark eyes gazing up at Izzy. He was so beautiful like this: natural, clean, and without makeup. Like this, he felt real and grounded. He was Izzy's. "You were entirely gone, in your own world. What were you thinking about?"
"You," Izzy replied bluntly.
Stede chuckled predictably, a big smile on his face. His body rocked with quiet laughter and Izzy found himself smiling back. "Come on. That's such a cliché answer."
"It's true," Izzy insisted.
Stede's laughter died back into a smile as he looked at Izzy, searching his face. It didn't seem as though Stede thought he was lying. It felt more as if he was taking in Izzy's expression and fully savouring the moment. Stede blinked slowly and happily, just as Moonshine did when Izzy looked at her for any length of time.
Once satisfied, Stede pushed forward to bring their mouths together. Izzy easily leaned into the movement and wrapped his arms around Stede, holding them close together.
Kissing Stede was natural and easy. It was how Izzy knew they belonged together: nothing had even been this easy with anyone else. Their mouths slotted together and sealed the space between them.
The barest hint of stubble tickled against Izzy's lips as he mouthed along Stede's jaw. Peeking over his shoulder, Izzy grabbed handfuls of Stede's robe and pulled it up and apart. He needed to get to the naked skin underneath.
Stede sighed and moaned beautifully when Izzy palmed his thighs, writhing and grinding against Izzy who was still trapped in his clothing. Stede was responsive and vocal, and if it had been anyone else, Izzy would have suspected they were faking it. Stede, however, was just as dramatic in bed as everywhere else.
"Oh, Israel," Stede breathed—his voice quivering and sweet—and wriggled around to get his arms in between them, working the zip on Izzy's trousers down with some difficulty. "I need—Hang on."
Izzy removed his hands from where they had reached Stede's naked ass and held them up and out of the way. Stede shuffled back and straddled Izzy's legs, instantly working on pulling the trousers down enough to get at his underwear. "These pants are so damn tight."
"You picked them out for me," Izzy reminded him, an amused smile on his face.
"Yeah, well," Stede huffed. "They look great."
As Stede worked on freeing him, Izzy unabashedly stared down at Stede's half-hard cock peeking out from between the loose folds of his robe. There was something arousing yet comical about it bobbing as he moved.
Once the trousers and underwear were halfway down Izzy's legs, Stede wasted no time crowding in close to kiss him again. Izzy groaned at the fingers disappearing down between his legs.
"You're wet," Stede mumbled happily, as though it was a pleasant surprise.
Izzy huffed out a breath through his nose. "Someone was grinding all over me." Stede didn't stop other than to let out an amused breath. It quickly turned into an open-mouthed gasp as Izzy got his hands between them too.
Their kissing turned messy and uncoordinated as they moaned into each other's mouths. It was clear this would be a quick and simple affair, no savouring and no taking it to the bedroom. One of Stede's hands was fingering Izzy in a staccato rhythm and the other had slipped up his shirt to grope at his chest.
Izzy arched into the caress, keening and trying to keep from pressing his legs together. His hands were working Stede over despite the somewhat awkward position, stroking his shaft and gently cupping his balls, trying to remember every trick he'd learnt over the months together.
Soon, Stede gave up on holding himself up to continue the kissing and instead let himself collapse against Izzy's chest, head resting on his shoulder. They were panting and moaning in the other's ear, hips twitching and working towards the pleasure.
Stede's voice raised in pitch in a familiar way, turning into little adorable whimpers. Izzy recognised the telltale signs and moved both hands to his dick, stroking quickly and massaging the head.
With a cry, muffled by the arm of the sofa and Izzy's shoulder, Stede quivered on top of Izzy and then sank down with a shiver, resting his full weight on Izzy's chest. His fingers had stopped moving but Izzy couldn't care less. Stede was putty, letting out cute whimpers as Izzy continued stroking him slowly and gently.
Having caught his breath a bit, Stede shifted on top, moving back and looking down at Izzy. His face was ruddy and he looked dazed. He was beautiful.
Something glinted in Stede's eye as his hands returned to their task. He pressed his fingers deeper and curled them quickly. "I've got you. I've got you."
"Ah, fuck!" Izzy had to exclaim as a shiver went through his entire body. He was so wet and so close. His hand grabbed Stede's robe tight. In a hurried tone, he chanted, "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop." If anything, Stede redoubled his efforts and let Izzy grind into his palm. Stede was saying something, voice shaky but soothing, but Izzy couldn't tell what. With a quiver, he seized up and his orgasm washed through him.
For a few seconds, the world was blissfully still. Then, he slowly came back to a heavy weight on top of himself.
Stede cuddled into his chest, messy hand grabbing Izzy's nice white dress shirt.
"You may want to move," Izzy started and had to pause to wet his lips. "—or I might ruin the sofa."
That second part of the sentence had Stede springing up to his feet to help Izzy up. The sofa was fine but Izzy's thighs were a wet mess. He'd need a quick shower before bed.
Stede smiled mischievously at him, as though he was proud of what he'd caused. Leaning in and cupping Izzy's cheek, Stede gave him a quick kiss. "I'll wait in bed."
When Izzy wandered into their bedroom, towel still around his neck after the shower, Stede was conked out sitting up in bed. He'd put on his reading glasses again and a book was resting on his tummy, slumped down and forgotten. He couldn't have gotten more than a few sentences in. At the foot of the bed, Moonshine was curled into a small grey ball.
Izzy felt his heart clench. He didn't know why it was always casual domesticity that struck such a cord with him and made him ache with a fondness for Stede.
Walking over, keeping his steps light and quiet, Izzy slipped the book from Stede's lax grasp. He put it on the bedside table and then plucked the glasses from Stede, folding them up and putting them on top.
He leaned in and placed a lingering kiss on Stede's forehead. That caused the man to stir and blink his eyes open. Letting out a groaning noise, Stede shifted. He moved his head up, seeking contact. Izzy smiled and gave his lips a peck.
Stede relaxed again and scooted down to lie properly in the bed. "Goodnight, dear," he mumbled, settling in.
Izzy made his way around the bed to his own side of it, turned out the light and got in under the duvet. He settled on his side, watching Stede's silhouette. Without his glasses on, he was nothing but a blurry shape in the darkness.
After a few moments, Izzy said, "Stede?"
There was a hum in response.
"Are you happy?"
There was a brief pause. Izzy could see Stede's silhouette shift and hear the smile in his tired voice. "Yeah."
That should have been enough. He should trust that. Stede wouldn't lie.
Still, doubt instantly crept into Izzy's mind. Did Stede really know what he meant? When he answered, did he mean just in this moment or in general? If so, was that enough? Could Izzy still do better?
For a while longer, Izzy lay there and watched Stede slip away into sleep.
He felt he should do something more—anything—he just didn't know what.
Maybe Edward would know.