Stede's heart pounds in his ears as he kneels behind Izzy, running a hand over his cunt, still red and a little swollen from his spanking, slick dripping down, coating his thighs as he tries to spread his legs further, prevented by his smalls and trousers tangled round his knees.
"Alpha," he gasps at Stede's touch, "please, alpha, please!"
Stede feels feverish, cock so hard it's painful, and it occurs to him that Izzy's never really seen him in rut before--he wishes he'd had more time to prepare. It's too late now, he's already half mad with it.
Everything in him, blood rushing through his veins, skin too tight, hair rising on the nape of his neck as all his thoughts narrow to the steady beating rhythm of mine-mine-mine, the need to take his mate, claim him, fill his cunt with his seed and keep it there. He growls.
Stede is merciless with the slipper, raining down blows swiftly and sharply across Izzy's ass and down his thighs. After a few minutes Izzy is gasping, feet kicking out involuntarily.
"Alpha, alpha, please, I'm sorry!" he cries out, clinging to Stede's leg as he writhes.
"I know you are my darling," Stede says sympathetically as he lays down a particularly sharp series of strikes along the backs of Izzy's already glowing thighs, "and I've already forgiven you, but I'm afraid I have to be absolutely certain this particular lesson sticks."
Izzy shouts in frustration, then yelps in panic as Stede reaches down and pushes his legs apart.
"Please, alpha, no!"
He knows it's hopeless even as he begs for mercy. Stede wraps a hand in his hair, pulling his head up so he can speak into Izzy's ear.
Izzy stares up Stede, eyes dark, mouth open. Stede's fingers dig into his jaw, just this side of too hard. Izzy's eyes flutter shut as Stede squeezes just a touch harder. He can smell Stede's rut, so fucking strong that if it weren't for Stede's grip he'd be presenting already.
He whines softly, wanting wanting wanting, god he doesn't know how he survived the last few days, thinks he might die here and now if his alpha doesn't claim him
"Alpha," he whimpers again "please..."
Stede bends down, speaking directly into Izzy's ear, lips brushing his throat
"You want my knot, omega?"
Izzy turns his face, nuzzling at Stede urgently.
"Please, please, please..." his voice is soft and breathy as he begs for his alpha. Stede speaks into his ear again.
Stede takes the back streets, grateful the inn he's chosen is a short walk from the port, close enough to smell salt and hear sailors singing and calling to each other early in the morning. He keeps a firm grip on Izzy's arm, his other hand resting on the blunderbuss at his hip.
This close, he can't believe he missed it--the scent of Izzy's heat is powerful, citrus and cedar, hint of lavender underneath marking him as Stede's bond mate. Izzy stumbles along beside him, eyes distant, mouth open as he pants, almost enough to make Stede reconsider his plan.
But, well, in for a penny in for a pound and he doesn't know how else he can convince his stubborn little mate to take this seriously. A few heads turn as they slip through alleys and side streets, but a growl from Stede and the scent of a mated pair is enough to keep them at bay
Jim is sharpening their knives on deck when Stede approaches them. He stands in front of them, hands clasped in front of him and clears his throat nervously.
"What," they snap, not looking up from the easy slide of whetstone over blade. Stede shuffles his feet, shamefaced."
"I, um-- well, that is..." he trails off, face bright red as he scents the other alpha's annoyance. He can't blame them. If their positions were reversed, he'd be disgusted too. Jim looks up at him, mouth pressed flat, eyes cold. Stede takes a breath, forces himself to go on.
"Frenchie has brought it to my attention that... that Izzy is in heat," he says, voice lilting up as if in question. Jim's eyes go from cold to smouldering fury and Stede begins to feel he's miscalculated.
"En serio?" they say, "You didn't even fucking notice? Hijo de puta..."
Stede sighs, folding his arms across his chest. The breakfast table has been set for two--Edward headed off last week to help Jack with some fuckery or other, or more likely to drink too much and get himself in trouble as Izzy cynically pointed out while watching Edward pack.
Regardless of the reason, Stede had been looking forward to spending some quality time alone with his omega. The three of them were deliriously happy, of course. As co captains he and Ed always seemed to have plenty of time just the two of them, but Izzy always seemed so busy.
And so when Ed told them Jack needed his help--"wants your dick, more like," Izzy muttered as Ed squinted at the letter in Jack's childish scrawl--Stede had encouraged him to go, hoping he might convince Izzy to treat it as a sort of vacation. They'll put into port later today.